Light in the Mist
by Matriaya
Summary: Trapped in a sufficating society bind, Hailey Matthews is willing to give up everything, including life, to be free of the chains that hold her. Spot Conlon feverishly clings to his newsie title and bad-boy ways, unwilling to give in to his own heart.
1. To Live or Let Go

Title: Light in the Mist  
  
Author: Mika (me!!)  
  
Disclaimer: Obviously I don't own Newsies. If I did, I'd be sitting on a remote beach in Hawaii right now instead of freezing my booty off in front of my computer!  
  
Dedication: To my best friend and Wicca sista, Eva Keller (a.k.a Hailey) I love you girl!  
  
Summary: Hailey Matthews is a refined young lady of society, destined to marry Pulitzer's extremely disgusting newphew Marcus. Life throws her a curveball in the form of the mysterious but lowerclass Spot Conlon. He unwittingly becomes the light in her darkness, but when Marcus becomes jelous, all hell breaks loose.  
  
'Oh God, I can't take it anymore!' A very distraught Hailey Matthews ran with reckless abandon through the darkened streets of Brooklyn. Fresh tears stained her cheeks as the broken sobs escaped her lips. Her parents months ago had arranged for her to marry the hideously disgusting pompous jackass name Marcus Donovan, nephew of the even more cruel but extremely wealthy Mr. Pulitzer.  
  
It was a shock at first, and she allowed herself to ignore it. Pretending to be sick got her out of quite a few dinner parties. Whenever she was forced to spend an evening with the vile creature however, thoughts of her knight in shining armor could often distract her from his overbearing presence. The past few weeks though, the hopelessness of her situation began to sink heavily into her mind. She had to marry him. Depression crept slowly into her brain; eating away, day by day, at her soul until there was nothing left. Tonight was just the last straw.  
  
Everything appeared to be normal. Hailey dressed, as she was ordered, in her slimming burgundy dress with its slightly off the shoulder straps and matching heels. Her hair was done up all fancy, courtesy of her nanny- turned-maid Louisa. Her long silky brown hair was piled on top of her head with delicate ringlets spilling out. The whole room stopped and applauded when she descended the staircase with the elegant grace in which she was brought up to carry. A lot of the other boys at the party looked at her with longing and affection, knowing she was untouchable. Not Marcus though. No, he just stared at her with a smirk and licked his lips.  
  
Dinner seemed to drag on forever, as she had the unfortunate pleasure of sitting next to Marcus and listening to his many babbling stories of how he and his friends did any number of pathetic, perverted, and downright barbaric things. Under the stern eye of her mother, Hailey was forced to smile and nod politely while sipping her Champaign class full of sparkling apple juice. After a particular tale however, of how he and his friends shoved a 5 year old boy of lower stature under a moving train just fast enough so that it didn't kill him, but managed to scare him to the point of soiling himself, she got so disgusted she threw the contents of her wine glass right in his face and raced from the room.  
  
It wasn't even the story that got to her. It was the thorough tongue lashing her mother gave her afterwards, along with a stinging slap on the cheek.  
  
"You will marry Marcus child, or we'll disown you. You'll go out on the street to starve, just like the rest of that trash! Without Marcus, you're nothing to me girl! Nothing!"  
  
'If I'm nothing,' Hailey thought with a silent, malice-laced smile, 'then you won't mind if I'm gone!'  
  
Finally, tears frozen to her pale cheeks and breath coming out in fast pants, she reached her destination and came to a sudden jerky stop. It stretched out before her, long and ominous. The pale lights of the fog- shrouded city on the other side of the ocean called to her, beckoning her onto the bridge. And rightly she walked, her steps slow and hesitant on the empty bridge. The air was cool and crisp. Her breath puffed out into billows of steam, and the border-line frigid air nipped uninvitingly at the bare arms of her skin.  
  
About half way across the long expanse of the massive landmark she stopped. Her mind was numb from the pain of the past few months. A few fresh tears sprinkled her cheeks daintily, and her hands trembled from an internal cold. Placing her fingers on the railing, Hailey peered slowly over the edge of the Brooklyn Bridge to her waiting grave below. Oh how hypnotizing it was, the freezing water below her. It was dark and murky, with a hint of mystery to it. Without even realizing it, she had climbed over the railing and stood, leaning forward with her arms behind her, clutching the cold metal.  
  
'Death.' She thought to herself, closing her eyes to relish in the final feeling of the cool New York wind on her face. 'Let me join you. Take me away from this horrid life!' Slowly, she began to loosen her fingers.  
  
"You ain't actually gonna jump is ya?" a voice behind her said. Startled, Hailey grabbed back on to the railing.  
  
'What the hell.' Carefully, so as not to fall, she turned herself around to face the speaker. A boy her age stood on the other side of the railing, staring at her curiously. His clothes were shabby and tattered. obviously he was lower class.  
  
"As a matter of fact I was, yes." She told him tritely. He just shrugged in response and murmured out a small, "oh" then continued on walking. She just stared after him, appalled.  
  
"What do you mean.'oh'?" she spoke shrilly. "Don't you even care that I'm about to end my life?"  
  
The boy turned back around nonchalantly.  
  
"As I figures it, if youse have guts enough to climb over da railing, den there's probably nothing I can do to stop ya." He told her. With his hands shoved in his pockets, he watched to see her reaction. It took her a moment to process his words.  
  
'He makes sense.'  
  
Her eyes darted from him to the water below.  
  
"You're absolutely right Mr."  
  
"Conlon. Spot Conlon." "Well you're absolutely right Mr. Conlon; there is nothing you can do. Now if you don't mind."  
  
Hailey began to turn around once more to gaze into the icy face of her death.  
  
"You gotta name I can give da bull when dey ask who da jumper was?" Spot asked behind her, once again breaking her final morbid moments. Flustered, she turned around.  
  
'Why the ill-mannered.' she glared at him.  
  
"My name?" the girl turned once more. He nodded. "Hailey Matthews."  
  
"Hailey Matthews." he repeated the name softly to himself, letting it play on his tongue. During his moment of silence, she began to loosen her grip on the railing.  
  
Fast as lightening his hand shot out and trapped her palm firmly against the unfriendly metal. His spasmodic gesture knocked her off balance, and she teetered for a moment between life and death. Fear washed through her in uncontrollable waves, and she grasped his wrist tightly with her other hand, struggling to find her footing. Hailey looked up into Spots eyes, as he too fought to keep her on the bridge. He stared directly back at her, his intense green eyes burned with determination. Before she could even register what was happening, she felt the bridge slip from underneath her feet.  
  
Her screams ripped the night air. For a moment all she could feel was the dark swirling nothingness of air surround her body, then.  
  
(A/N= dun dun duuuuuuuuuun! God I love cliffinghangers! Muahahaha! Okay so you all need to review and send me lots of flowers and chocolates in order for me to write more! (maybe we can skip the flowers and chocolate parts. unless you wanna be really nice!) so um. REVIEW!!! Please? Toodles for now! I love Spot Conlon!) 


	2. Refuge

Hailey shook with fear-filled sobs. The nipping air drove past her silk dress and latched onto her skin. Panic still seized control of her brain, shutting out all coherent reactions. Seeping through the cloud that trapped her; like a distant memory she heard the soothing hushed whispers of some far way angel. Though her skin as was numb, the faint feeling of warmth was present.  
  
Spot held the trembling, frightened girl with a gentleness he'd never before known.  
  
'What's her story?' he thought as he stroked her hair.  
  
For several long minutes they sat on the wind-swept pavement of the Brooklyn Bridge while Hailey searched frantically for the last shards of her sanity. Finally, with her cheeks stained red from tears and the cold, she raised her head from the chest of her mysterious savior and wiped her eyes.  
  
"Oh you must think me horribly silly." She said with a nervous giggle.  
  
"Nah." He told her, standing up and helping her to her feet. "It happens to da best of us."  
  
They walked, side by side in silence for a moment, beginning the slow journey back to Brooklyn.  
  
"So what's your deal? He asked after a while. "Whad'ja want out so bad?"  
  
A shadow fell over her face and she stared wistfully out at the river once more. He thought at first she wasn't going to answer. Her voice came out soft, barely audible.  
  
"I'm. engaged." She admitted.  
  
Spot looked at her, thoroughly astonished.  
  
"You mean like - married - engaged?" he asked incredulously.  
  
A blush stained her cheeks and she nodded.  
  
"To who?" he grunted out. "Pulitzer's nephew?"  
  
Her embarrassed silence answered his question, and he stopped in his tracks.  
  
"You're serious?" he asked, sprinting to catch up with her.  
  
Meekly she looked up at him.  
  
"Unfortunately."  
  
Spot let out a low, long whistle and jammed his hands into his pockets.  
  
"Wow." Speechlessness got a hold of him and all he could do was stare. They walked in silence for a long moment. An eerie sense of relief washed over Hailey as they stepped off the bridge and onto the solid ground of Brooklyn.  
  
"Well then Miss Matthews," Spot attempted to sound like a well bred gentleman, but it only came out as amusing with his thick New York accent. "Where shall I be escorting you tonight?"  
  
Hailey laughed, her voice twinkling like bells.  
  
"Home."  
  
Her face fell when she mentioned the place.  
  
"You shouldn't complain." Spots voice suddenly held a touch of ice. "At least you have a home."  
  
Hailey looked at him, slightly frightened as his eyes began to dance with a frigid fire.  
  
"You're living on cloud nine and you don't even know it!"  
  
Her pace slowed as the tension surrounding him threatened to strangle her. His hands were out of his pockets and his fists were clenched.  
  
"While you sit around and pamper yourself, the rest of us are starving in the streets!"  
  
His passionate tirade hit beneath the skin. Unrecognized by him at first, she stopped dead in her tracks. Her usually ivory skin slipped into a ghastly pale, and all the energy left her body. Drained of all, Hailey slid limply down against a nearby wall, and stared hollowly at the ground.  
  
"No!"  
  
Her raging scream pierced the night. Instantly Spot whirled around, and saw her form sprawled against the building. Shaking his head guiltily, he limped slowly to her side and dropped down beside her. Reaching out a hand, he touched her hair softly.  
  
"I'm sorry." he whispered. ~~~  
  
"Well I guess dis is it." Spot said as they pulled up in front of a beautiful wrought-iron fence.  
  
Spot was almost nauseous due to all the overly-opulent houses they'd passed on the way. Little girls, dolled up in curls and the boys with their new toys, zipping around their warm cozy parlors as if they were king. Hailey looked up for a moment, staring at him with curiousity.  
  
"Thank you Mr. Conlon."  
  
She felt her upper-class snobbery returning to her veins, and the boy who was once Spot became just another news boy in tattered clothes. After giving him a curt nod, she turned and walked up the snow-dusted walkway towards her house.  
  
"Hailey."  
  
The sound of her name spoken behind her made her stop instantly and rotate ever so slowly. The instant she faced him again, something warm and solid landed in her balled hands.  
  
"Just in case you get desperate again."  
  
With that final note he disappeared into the shadows of the night as quickly as he had come, leaving her bewildered and chilled on her front lawn.  
  
(A/N= done with the second part! Yay! Thanks so much to all of you for reviewing, and sorry about the change of title! The other one seemed to sappy. Hell, the whole story is sappy, but you know what I mean! Ahhhhhhh! Okay, toodles!) 


	3. Reflection

Spot sat on his bunk bed in St. Abby's Home for Boys. It was at least midnight, probably later. Yet he couldn't sleep.  
  
'Why the hell did I give her the key?' I t had been gnawing at his mind relentlessly for hours, and still he had no answer to it. Never in all the 12 years he'd had the key, had he ever taken it off. And yet in the blink of an eye he handed it over to a girl he'd known for 10 minutes and would probably never see again. Not that he even needed it anymore. The room to which the key fit had so many secret entrances (all that only he knew about) that he rarely used the door anymore. That tiny room had been his salvation his whole life.  
  
When he was younger, and his dad used to beat him, he'd often hide out in the tiny room and dream of a land far away where no pain or anger existed. As he grew older, it became the only place in all of New York where he could be alone without the prying eyes of the other newsies observing his every move. It wasn't much, just a large walk-in storage closet in the Larpentur Opera House, which closed down years ago. No one ever went in the building anymore, much less excavated it for secret rooms. He always took comfort in the fact that he was the only person in the whole of New York that knew about the secret room, which over the years he'd fashioned into a sort of house. Yet in the blink of an eye, he'd given it all away. And for what purpose? Some snobby little rich girl.  
  
'The desperation in her eyes.' he thought as he stared out the window from his perch atop his bunk.  
  
He could still vividly see the fear dancing in them as she teetered on the edge of life and death. Oh how she shook as he set her gently on the ground, how the tears streamed down her face and her whole tiny figure trembled. He was the toughest, most feared newsie in all of New York City, and the pain of one single rich girl had him revealing things he told to no one. Sighing deeply, he collapsed onto his bunk with a creaky thunk. Time to count the dots.  
  
Hailey sat, staring wistfully out into the cold night of Brooklyn, with a million thoughts dancing through her head. Was that all real? Did she really just try and end her life? The pain had numbed, and as she sat it all seemed like something out of a horrible dream. Marrying Marcus would be the worst reality of all, of course, even worse than death. The icy chill that danced down her spine reminded her of the immense pain and agony she'd felt, lying cold and desperate on the heartless pavement of the bridge.  
  
And what about the boy? Could he have been just an image conjured up by her mind to escape for one moment the hideous realism of Marcus? The warmth of metal in her hands banished that theory. Unintentionally, she fingered the small silver key tied to the strip of leather that the mysterious boy had so abruptly thrown into her hands before departing. 'Where does it lead?' she thought curiously. 'It could be to a treasure chest, or to a house of some sort.'  
  
Her blue eyes gleamed as wild possibilities danced in her head.  
  
They all came to a crashing downfall when a harsh knock came at her large oak door.  
  
"Hailey dear, are you up?"  
  
Quickly she stashed the key in the bodice of her dress, and shoved herself off her bay window ledge. Mrs. Matthews entered the room with her hair done up in curlers and a frumpy bathroom tied around her body. It was as if the whole incident earlier with Marcus hadn't even occurred. Rage boiled up in the pit of the girl's stomach.  
  
"What about being nothing to you?" she wanted to scream out, but held her tongue.  
  
"Remember tomorrow we're hosting Marietta Tanager's 60th birthday party." Mrs. Matthews said, fluffing her rollers.  
  
All the happiness at the intriguing thought of the key shattered with the mention of yet another endlessly dull party.  
  
"Louisa is out right now picking up your dress, and you have a 4 o'clock appointment with Mr. Shuvaldy to do your hair. We'll have you looking like a doll in no time!"  
  
The opulent glee in her mother's voice made Hailey truly sick. Pinching her cheek, Mrs. Matthews headed towards the door.  
  
"Oh, and sweetie?" she added as she left. "You're welcome to invite all of your friends. The more glamour the better, that's what I always say!"  
  
With that, she left her daughter to wallow in her own dread.  
  
'I could always just hurl myself off the bridge again.'  
  
Hailey sat on her bed several minutes later, clutching the key tightly in one hand, and staring at the ceiling. That idea was quickly dismissed at the remembrance of the mysterious Spot Conlon and the riddle of his key.  
  
'I could pretend to have Ebola again.'  
  
Shudders went up her spine as she recollected the hell she went through last time she pretended to have a fatal and contagious disease. Then an idea, most wicked and brilliant indeed, struck a chord in her brain. Instantly she shot up and grabbed her coat off the back of a lavish chair.  
  
'Not only will it drive mom crazy,' she smiled, pleased in herself, as she burst out of her house towards the lock shop. 'But I'll have a friend there as well!'  
  
(A/N= I'm freeeeeeeeee! No more school for 2 whole weeks!! Yayayay! Okay, a special thanks to LadyOfSlytherin-is that your name on here?- for emailing me with reviews! And if any of you want a small but cool roll in the fanfic, email me with character stats. Thanks so much for reviewing! I love you all1 toodles!)  
  
(oh, and one more thing. Whoever () is, I appreciate your comments, though they're negative, but please only post them once a chapter if at all. Its getting kinda annoying. Thanks doll! Oh, and if you hafta flame me bigtime, my emails' in my profile!) 


	4. Descending Angel

The usual jamboree of people clogged the busy streets of Brooklyn at 4 o'clock as Spot finally sold his last newspaper.  
  
'It must be a new record,' he thought smugly to himself as he tossed the quarter up into the air and caught it with expert speed. ' 100 papes in 10 hours.'  
  
The monthly newsie poker tournament ensued back at St. Leah's; an event always most entertaining. Yet the thought of hundreds of drunken news boys smoking cigars and throwing up the whole night didn't exactly sound like the most fun he could have on a pleasant Friday evening. So instead of heading back to the boys home, he retreated to the Larpentur Opera House.  
  
The musty smell of wood and old perfume drifted lazily past his nose as he crept into the abandon building. Even though no one had been inside the building for years, Spot always felt the need to be quiet. at least until he entered his room. The stage was off to his left, with its lavish velvet curtains still drawn back for a last bow. Its blush burgundy seats were empty; not even the whisper of life was left in the dead theatre. Shaking the slightly uneasy feeling, he advanced down a back hallway to the door marked "Costumes." In there was where he made his heaven.  
  
It was comprised of only a beat-up mattress with tattered quilts, and several candles for light, but to him it was home. A worn-out picture of his mother in her 20's was wedged partly in a crack in the wall. Serving as the only happy memory of his childhood, his mother died when he was 4. The faintest of recollections - the smell of her hair, the sound of her voice- as well as the picture was all he had left of a life without pain and darkness. It shocked him to no end to find the door to his little paradise was ajar.  
  
Instantly every muscle in his body tensed up, and he shoved the door open slowly. Cane at the ready, and sling shot promptly available in his back pocket, Spot advanced into his small room, and was utterly shocked at what he saw. All the candles were lit, and the flickering glow danced on the beige and wood walls. His bed, usually a rumpled mess of quilts, was neatly made. What struck him as the most out of place however, was the delicate peace of cream paper, with its fancy pink writing that sat prettily on his bed. Dropping his cane carelessly to the floor, he fell onto his bed and picked up the paper.  
  
You have been cordially invited  
  
To Ms. Tanager's 60th birthday party Graciously hosted by the Matthews.  
  
Spot just snorted in disbelief. Him? Spot Conlon, being invited to some rich broad's birthday party? An address was written at the bottom, but he glanced over that with disinterest. What did catch his attention was the message hastily scribbled in pretty, flourished handwriting.  
  
I wanted to thank you for saving my life. Please come! ~Hailey Matthews~  
  
'So it was her den,' he thought as he cast the invitation to the ground and stared up and the ceiling; contemplating his options.  
  
The party was later that night, at Hailey's house.  
  
'Probably full of hoidy toidy people.'  
  
Though he couldn't help smiling at the chaos that would ensue when a newsie showed up at an upper-class party with an invitation. He didn't really have anything to wear that would be suitable for such an opulent atmosphere.  
  
'Dat'll just add to da fun!' he mused with a sly grin. 'Well den Miss Matthews, looks like you'll have a guest tonight.'  
  
The walkway was lined with dancing white candles, leading past the wrought iron fence to the large and intricately carved oak doors of the Matthews mansion. Spot just stood and stared at it for a moment in silent awe. Beautifully dressed men and women passed him by without so much as a glance; laughing and talking to themselves as they made their way up to the party. For 10 minutes he had stood, debating whether or not to follow the crowd up to the party, or forget the whole thing and pretend he'd never met Hailey Matthews. His fascination and thrill of the trouble he would most likely cause decided for him though. Taking a deep breath, he started the short trek towards the extravagant house.  
  
The instant he arrived, the footman looked at him with apparent distaste.  
  
"The mister and missus already have their paper." He said with politeness, though his voice was dripping with revulsion.  
  
Spot grinned at the aging man, and held up his invitation.  
  
"I'm here for da party."  
  
The doorman looked as if he were going to faint in disbelief.  
  
"I. how." he sputtered. His face grew red, and his eyes bulged out of his head.  
  
"I gots connections." Spot sat, clapping the man on the shoulder, then proceeded past him into the warmth and luxury of the house.  
  
Spot blatantly ignored the confused and aghast looks of the formal members of the party. A few kids his age, girls mostly, were off in one corner, all fawning over the particular boy in the middle. One look at him and Spot knew who he was. Marcus Donovan, Hailey's fiancée.  
  
'And judging by da look of pleasure in his eyes, he ain't takin da whole "engaged man" duty seriously.' He thought with disgust. With the boy's twig- like figure and obvious lack of muscles, Spot knew he could soak him no problem.  
  
'Not here,' he knew. 'Not in front of all dese people. Later, when he's alone.'  
  
  
  
(A/N this is makeup for my loooooooooong absence. I love Chrismas break! NO school! Okay, toodles!) (p.s. I know this story sounds like Butterfly's "Apple Pie and Broken Shoes" but that's cause she was my inspiration. I love you girl! Spots Miiiiiiiiine! So is Orlando Bloom!) 


	5. Spinning into Escape

Even the mere thought of his fist cracking the boy's small little jaw was exhilarating. It would have to wait though, until his little fan club had dispersed and the adults stopped glaring at him with unconcealed suspicion. All were either too confused, repulsed, or just plain scared of conversing with someone of lower class to confront him, so he just grabbed a glass of champagne off a passing tray and slammed the whole thing.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
The dull murmur of the party continued for a few minutes until rich, obnoxious-looking woman tapped her knife politely on her glass.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"Ladies and gentlemen, my daughter Hailey Matthews." Mrs. Matthews announced, and the whole crowd, including Spot, turned to face the grand stairwell. The women of the group 'oohed' and 'aahed' appropriately, and a few people clapped. Spot just stared, stricken, at the angel that had once been Hailey Matthews  
  
  
  
  
  
. Her small delicate form donned a dress of an almost silvery blue. Her hair was pilled on top of her head, with curls spilling down. A few wisps escaped, framing her porcelain face. For the first time in his life, the fast-talking, sharp shooter found himself devoid of all rational thoughts. As she slowly descended the staircase, its elegance greatly lower than her own, a plastered on smile adorned her face, though her eyes were a portrait of dread and despair.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
It was then that Marcus made his overly confident way towards the grand staircase to meet his "bride-to-be" at the bottom. When he did, he kissed her appropriately on the cheek to the admiration and pleasure of the audience. Spot nearly crushed his champagne glass in his hand at the horrendous sight of that slob putting his hands all over her. It was worse however, at the knowledge that he couldn't do a damn thing about it because Marcus was Pulitzer's nephew and he was nothing but a lowly newsboy.  
  
  
  
  
  
On the hand of her fiancée, Hailey made her way deeper into the throng of people. Kissing Ms. Tanager on both cheeks and wishing her a happy birthday was her first stop (seeing as the party was in honor of the woman's birthday.) Then it was on to her mob of flaky, giggling friends. The only plus side to being with them was that Marcus left her alone to "gossip with the girls." Oh how she wished she could drone to someone about how awfully horrid Marcus was! But all her friends adored the grotesque creature, so that was out of the question.  
  
  
  
  
  
'Send me an angel Lord, please!' she glanced momentarily out the window and the clear night sky.  
  
  
  
  
  
It was then that she saw him, standing nonchalantly in amongst a crowd of elegantly dressed women. Oddly enough, he was wearing the same clothes she last saw him in, and had was downing a glass of champagne as she watched him. A smile lit up her face, a real one, and she quickly excused herself from her chattering friends.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Hailey approached him with a joyous grin, nearly running to reach him.  
  
  
  
  
  
"You came!" she exclaimed with much enthusiasm. Spot just stared at her for a moment with a look in his eye she couldn't quite place. Under the lights of the many chandeliers that hung from the ceiling, she could now clearly see the vivid green in his eyes. Her breath caught for a moment as he reached for her.  
  
  
  
  
  
'What on Earth.' she thought, but her fears quickly turned to butterflies as he took her hand and kissed it gently.  
  
  
  
  
  
"Ya look beautiful." He said, with his unrefined accent. At first she thought he was joking, and began to laugh, but there was a seriousness in his voice that sent the tiniest of shivers down her spine.  
  
  
  
  
  
"So dis is what rich folk's parties look like 'ey?" Spot asked, as he reluctantly released her hand and grabbed another glass of champagne off a passing waiter. She too grabbed one and delicately began to sip it.  
  
  
  
  
  
"Yes, this is it." She replied, glancing around at all the odd stares she was receiving for conversing with a boy of lower stature. "It isn't usually this dull though. Our band hasn't arrived yet, I expect there will be dancing soon."  
  
As she said that, her gaze turned to Marcus and her eyes glazed over with loathing.  
  
  
  
  
  
"Yo fiancé seems like a great guy." Spot said, following her gaze. A look of astonishment crossed her face as she turned to her unlikely guest, but when he snickered slightly at her bewilderment, she could find no alternative than to hit him lightly on the shoulder and laugh right along with him.  
  
  
  
  
  
"I didn't think you were coming Mr. Conlon," she found her head and addressed him formally. It was obvious though that he didn't agree with her sense of formality however, because annoyance darted plainly across his face.  
  
  
  
  
  
"Well Miss Matthews," he mocked her. "I'd neva pass up a chance ta associate wid all dese friendly and welcoming peoples. Dat'd just be mad."  
  
  
  
  
  
His voice held an obvious tone of anger, and though he tried to hold it in, she still flinched as he bit out the words.  
  
  
  
  
  
"I'm sorry," she apologized softly, turning away from her guest to stare back at Marcus who was - yet again - surrounded by a mob of girls. "They're not used to seeing people of. lower stature. at one of our parties."  
  
Though she tried to soften her words, the meaning still came through to him as clearly as when she floated her angelic way down the stairs. In the eyes of the people that surrounded them, he was scrap. It took all his strength not to shook off a spiteful remark at her comment, as he would've done with any of his boys. He too stared at the mingling guests. Some were preparing to dance, as the 5 piece orchestra began to warm up.  
  
"Why did ya invite me?" he asked suddenly, slamming down his forth glass of champagne and putting the empty one on a passing tray. Hailey regarded him with amusement dancing in her sapphire eyes.  
  
"How can you not be completely discombobulated after 4 rapidly consumed glasses of champagne?" she asked him. A smirk touched his lips.  
  
"Afta whisky contests wid some of da toughest boys from da Bronx, champagne is nothing." He told her with an air of pride. "I can take maybe 10 of dese before it goes to my head." The sound of a whisky contest, what ever that was, caught her as a bit strange, but she simply nodded and sipped her drink modestly.  
  
The first strains of a soft, twinkling music filled the great hall, and numerous couples made their way out onto the floor for a waltz. Mrs. Matthews sashayed her away over to Marcus and pulled him away from his fans - making her way towards Hailey.  
  
"Oh god," she murmured, averting her gaze to the floor. "Here comes my mother. She'll want me to dance with that horrid wretch." Spot chuckled, looking at her pathetic downcast face with amusement. "Ya really don't like him do ya?" he asked her, catching her gaze.  
  
"No, I think him utterly repulsive and, I so willingly demonstrated last night, would rather throw myself off a bridge than marry him." She huffed. "Why can't he just dance with one of his adoring admirers?" Mrs. Matthews and the now smirking Marcus were steadily growing closer. With every step closer they took, Hailey felt the bubble of dread in her stomach grow larger.  
  
"Well dere's really only one way ta settle this," Spot told her, and she looked at him with curious eyes. They widened with surprise when he grabbed her hand once more.  
  
"Ya'll just hafta dance wid me!" Instead of the shyness she would've felt with any other man, Hailey felt pure joy and relief. She laughed aloud as he spun her away into the waltzing crowd, leaving her stunned mother to sputter randoms to herself.  
  
(A/N okay, sorry that took me so long to write back to you people. Please forgive me! And a quick message to the heroine of this story, Eva huny if you are reading this please call me! I need to talk to you! I'm really worried about you girl! I love you! Call me! All right, responses are always welcome. If not, we might have to start sacrificing some of my readers. We'll start with Butterfly (sorry big sis) responses or the girl dies! Muahahahaah!) 


	6. Dancing

Hailey couldn't keep the glee from her face as she glided around the room in Spot's arms.  
  
"Ya motha'll most likely kill me for dis!" he said above the noise, though it was apparent from the rueful smile on his face that he really didn't care.  
  
"Where did you learn to waltz?" she asked, curious.  
  
They both ignored the odd stares they were receiving.  
  
"We have dese dances every weekend down at Taffy's pub." He told her. "Me and da boys go once and a while."  
  
She gave him a dazzling smile, and he nearly melted right there on the dance floor.  
  
'Damn you woman!' he cursed her silently. 'Ya've gotta stop smilin like dat or.'  
  
He shuddered to even think of what would happen if he let his self restrain go.  
  
"Taffy's? I don't believe I've heard of it," she told him. "It sounds charming."  
  
Spot laughed.  
  
'How naïve is she?'  
  
"Um. I wouldn't exactly call it dat,"  
  
Images of the wild, insanely filthy and drunken parties that took place within the grimy walls of Taffy's, made him smile, and picturing her in her fancy dress and dolled hair in amongst the vagrants and starving artists, as well as drunken beggars and whores had him biting back cackles. He looked at her, her rosy cheeks and beautiful smile seemed to blend right into the lavish background. This was her life, it was obvious. Even if she was nice to him, a mere newsboy, so were the nuns in Manhattan that were funded by anonymous rich men. In amongst the hoidy-toidies was where she belonged.  
  
Slowly the music, twinkling its last few strains to the welcoming audience, died down, and reluctantly Spot let her go.  
  
"Thank you Mr. Conlon," she curtseyed to him, and he attempted a small bow.  
  
"I guess you're stuck dancing wid dat fiancée of yours." He told her with a smug smile. Instantly he regretted speaking the words, because yet again her face fell into shadow. In only deepened with the storm cloud that approached, in the form of her blustering mother. Strangely, Marcus was absent from the scene.  
  
'Probably gave up to dance wid anoder twitty girl.'  
  
"Hailey Matthews, what on Earth do you think you're doing?" the older woman's shrill wail cut into the noise.  
  
"Dancing mother, what else would I be doing?"  
  
There was smugness in her voice that threatened to be defied, and it was obvious her mother was steaming with annoyance.  
  
"And who is your." Mrs. Matthews gave Spot the once over with a disapproving eye. " friend?"  
  
His first thought was to make a good impression with Hailey's mother, but then it occurred to him that no matter how polite he tried to be his accent and attire would only discredit him, so instead he went for the "fast- talking sonuvabitch" routine that he used in daily life.  
  
"Spot Conlon," he introduced himself with a half-grin that he usually used to seduce women, spit in his hand, and offered it to the woman. She looked appauled, and her face slipped several shades whiter as she murmured out a small, "Dear God!"  
  
Hailey did her best to stifle a giggle as she watched her mother chide away in horror.  
  
"Well dear," the pale woman turned back to her daughter, who was now staring innocently at her. "I think perhaps you should say goodbye to your friend now, because Marcus is waiting for a dance."  
  
The mention of the horrid boy's name made her wince, and the moment of sunshine Spot brought to her mind was quickly quenched. Pale as a ghost, she followed her mother as if walking to a guillotine. Sqeezing his eyes shut, Spot cursed himself silently and did something he knew he shouldn't. Fast as lightening he reached out and grabbed her wrist. She stopped momentarily and looked at him with eyes of slight fear and sadness.  
  
"I'm always here for you Hailey." He hissed, then let go of her arm and released her to her fate. It was a bad thing to do, but he was rewarded in spades at the small but gracious smile he got in return. Her delicate pink lips mouthed the words "thank you" before she was swallowed up by the crowd.  
  
(A/N= hey everybody! *hey doctor nick!* hope you like the next installment, its fluff, as well as depressness then some fluff at the end. Its gets fun. Next chapter -or following soon thereafter-will *dun dun duuuuunnnn* a fight scene! Ahhhhhh! Yay! Okay, reviews are more than welcome! *coughcough* love you guys!) 


	7. note from Mika

Hey everybody! Okay, I know I'm really mean for not reviewing (thanks Gwennie for waking me up to this fact. Happy birthday by the way!!!) I have some bad news. Although maybe you all can cheer me up and change it. I was seriously contemplating dropping the whole story, cause I had no time to write, but now is spring break so maybe..  
  
Ahh! I need help! Just incase I can't finish, are there any of you who would be willing to carry the torch??  
  
I'll remove this once I start writing again, but I love all you guys so for now I'll update this weeked I hope...  
  
( I love you guys!  
  
Mika  
  
p.s. thanks Gwennie!!! 


	8. Marcus Donovan

God, I'd kill for a cigar,' Spot thought bitterly to himself as he leaned against a far wall and became invisible.  
  
The adults were treating him like a parasite, hated but tastefully ignored. The need for something stronger than the champagne was creeping up on him too, as he silently watched Hailey spin around the room with her fiancée. He laughed and grinned like a hyena. She'd smile politely every so often but basically kept her eyes trained either on the wall or the floor. Minutes seemed to pass like hours as he stared intermittently at either her or others who seemed to be enjoying themselves. Coming to the party suddenly seemed like a horrible idea, and the thought of taking off and heading to Taffy's sounding like an excellent plan. Then he looked over at Hailey's miserable face and he decided to hold out at least until she was given leave to go to her room. Then he'd make a quick break for the door and resume his normal life as a lowlife Newsie from Brooklyn.  
  
The dancing began to slow to a crawl, and all the happy couples went back to schmoozing. Hailey looked over at Spot as if to go to him, but she was quickly surrounded by a flock of beautiful but ditsy girls. He just shook his head and, grabbing yet another champagne glass (he was on 9 now) made his way over to a secluded area. He was just about to plop himself down in a comfy looking maroon chair when a voice came behind him.  
  
"You stay the hell away from my fiancée."  
  
'Oh joy, this should be fun,' he thought, rolling his eyes. Slowly he turned around to face exactly who he'd expected.  
  
Marcus Donovan.  
  
"Ya want somethin'?" Spot asked, raising his chin higher and gave the boy a glare that made everyone in Brooklyn run for the hills. It was obvious the boy was insane with either jealousy or territorialism because he barely flinched.  
  
'Damn ego trip,'  
  
"Yeah. Hailey's mine. Stay away from her or I'll pound your face in!" Marcus got right up in Spot's face. His breath reeked of onions and fish (probably the appetizers.) Spot looked at him in disgust, as so many people had done to him tonight.  
  
"Hailey is propahty of no one ya filthy scabbah," he growled. It was either the name calling (of which his tiny brain didn't comprehend anyway) or the steely calmness Spot had master but it drove Marcus crazy with fury. With a high shriek of anger, the thin boy lunged at spot; fists in the air and face distorted in rage. In a blink he was down, with a thin red line of blood trickling from his nose.  
  
'Damn weakling dropped like a fly,'  
  
Marcus lay on the ground, sputtering for a long moment. Slowly, as if in a state of shock, he brought one bony-fingered hand to his nose. His eyes grew so large they nearly popped out of his head as he saw the blood that stained his fingertips. There was a thick silence that cut the room before Marcus's mindless sputtered turned into coherent words.  
  
"You disgusting vermin! How dare you touch me you. you. street trash!" he screamed out, leaping to his feet. The overly-shrill and annoying tone of his voice quickly drew the attention of the other party guests and a hushed murmur spread like wild fire through the crowd. Spot saw none of them however, registered nothing except Marcus. His eyes pierced cold as ice; his mere presence was enough to frighten a full grown man.  
  
"No one," voice thick with venom, he spoke, "calls me street trash. No one."  
  
The whispers were silenced and the entire room held their breath, waiting for someone to move. Spot wouldn't strike out first, he owed Hailey that much. But his tolerance had worn thin, and woman or not he would never be made a fool in front of scabbers.  
  
Screaming like a madman, Marcus lunged forward in a desperate attempted to dismantle his opponent. Spot was on him in the blink of an eye. Before Marcus knew what was going on, Spot had him pinned to the floor. He pounded the boy harder than he'd ever hit a guy in his life. His desire to snap his jaw was satisfied three-fold. The pain-filled squeals emitted from the weakling fell on deaf ears as Spot continuously punched him in the face. Blood gushed from his nose and mouth, and his arms and legs flailed like a dying fish, but Spot wouldn't let up.  
  
The adrenaline and rage was pumping so fast through Spot's veins that he hardly felt the 3 pairs of male hands it took to drag him off of the weasel. As the buzz lessened and his senses came out of hyper drive, he became aware of the world around him. A fair chunk of the women flocked around Marcus, quibbling their "tsks" to themselves. The men advanced on him, their mustaches moving as strings of curses flew from their mouths.  
  
Then there was Hailey  
  
She stood, unmoving. Her eyes darted back between Marcus and him; their beautiful orbs a canvas of horror.  
  
'She's lookin' at me like I's some kinda animal!' he realized. The situation pressed down on him and he tore his eyes away from her, turned, and sprinted out the door. The cool night air bit at his skin as he proceeded into the shadows.  
  
"Stay the hell away from my house!" Mr. Matthews' deep voice boomed across the yard. Enraged, Spot pounded on the mental of the gate at the side of the house. Usually he felt good after soaking someone (mentally anyway) and even better if it was a scabber. Yet the only thing he could see was the horror in her eyes.  
  
(A/N= I'm alllliiiiiiiiiiiiive!!!! Wow, I am so glad all of you stuck me out in my long time of not writing anything. Two special shout outs here  
  
Gwennie = you're about the only reason I'm uploading more so it's a b-day present! Happy birthday!!!  
  
Butterfly - as always girl, you're right. I've officially continued writing during school (to the protest of my teachers) but I need ideas of where to go after the scene I'm currently writing. Email me! We must chat!  
  
Thanks again to all of you! *hugs and kisses all around* spring break this week! Muahahaha! I'll try and upload more ASAP. Gotta fly. Again, I love you all!  
  
And Eva sweetie if you're reading this, we have 42 more days left till the Lizzie McGuire movie comes out! Call me doll!  
  
*MUAH!*) 


	9. All alone and running

Hailey stood, frozen like a moment in time. How was it possible that the kind boy who'd been nothing but gentle to her (tirade at the bridge notwithstanding) had become so vicious? Everyone else was too busy fussing over her battered fiancée.  
  
'He deserved it,' she knew, 'but Spot was so. violent.'  
  
Recollections of the rage his face portrayed sent shivers dancing down her spine. She knew then that she had to find him; had to figure out what cause his "Jackal and Hyde" transformation. Silently she slipped from the room unnoticed and out the back door into the cold night.  
  
THUMP! Something landed heavily just beyond the hedges and fence.  
  
'Spot!' she realized. 'He can't have gotten far then!'  
  
So as not to startle the boy, she plodded across the lawn and darted through the gate into the unfriendly streets. There he was, a few feet ahead of her, swaggering down the street.  
  
"Spot!" she hissed.  
  
He paused for the briefest of moments, then continued at a faster clip.  
  
"Spot, wait!" she repeated.  
  
'Stubborn bastard!'  
  
She shook her head and ran after him, her heels clicking as she went.  
  
"Would you just wait a minute?" she said, grabbing his shoulder to turn him around, but her hand was shoved away with frightening force.  
  
"What da hell do ya want wid me?" he spat out.  
  
She quenched her fears and stood strong before him.  
  
"What was that back there?" she asked, her voice angry. "Yah little boyfriend came at me, dat's what," he told her, then continued walking. "Spot, you may have broken his nose!" she accused.  
  
He whirled on her, fury dancing across his face.  
  
"I don't let no scabbah show me up!" he yelled. "Neva! Dis is yo world Hailey. I's noting but street trash!"  
  
She fell silent. Tears trickled down her cheeks but no words left her, there was nothing to say. He did nothing but look at her for a long moment, letting the fullness of his words echo in the air around them. Then, without warning, he grabbed her wrist and brought her face close to his. His voice was so harsh she flinched and tried to recoil, but his grip was too strong.  
  
"Yah too beautiful Miss Matthews," he growled softly, eyes burning with anger. "Go back ta da rest of it." With a small shove he released her, and disappeared into a dark alleyway. Hailey suddenly felt utterly alone, standing out in her bright blue dress amongst the grime of the street.  
  
~~~  
  
Spot ran with a ruthless recklessness, weaving in and out of the grates and boxes; through the alleyways and near streetlamps until he returned yet again to the filth of Brooklyn. Still, his legs wouldn't let him stop. Further and further he ran, with only one thing on his mind. banish all thoughts of Hailey Matthews. ~~~  
  
Shadows held strong to the alley walls as Hailey ran, caught up in the feverish storm that choked her mind. Why was she even out there; 2 beats away from twisting her ankle in the digging cold of the blustery night when she could be safe and warm in her own bed or wrapped in a blanket by the crackling fire?  
  
She could simply say he had used wiles to codger her into inviting him to the party and throw herself for a few hideous moments into Marcus's arms, feigning fear, and her mother would forgive her in an instant. But no! She had to lead herself on a crazy goose chase for the boy who obviously wanted nothing more to do with her.  
  
'Blast it all!'  
  
It was unfair, why her heart made her follow the devious boy.  
  
'He won't even see me if I find him,'  
  
If.  
  
That was the big variable. Glancing around at her current gloomy surroundings, her growing fears were confirmed.  
  
She was officially lost.  
  
~~~~ (A/N = ha! More! In the space of 2 days! Eat that! I know its short, but I couldn't think of a place to end it that will make is suspenseful and make you all come back for more. Muahaha! Okay, shout outs time!!!  
  
Gwennie = patience my young padawan. They will kiss, I'm writing the scene as we speak. These things take time! Trust me doll, it'll be a blast  
  
Butterfly - thank you again sweetheart! Saving my life as usual. Brainstorming.. Hmm...  
  
Love you all! Muahaha! Mika's out  
  
p.s. do any of the rest of you watch Lizzie McGuire that are reading this? Cause if you do email me and wi'll chattie!!) 


	10. Alley Trouble

The increasingly dark aura of the streets beat at her brain with rabid fear. Nothing looked even remotely familiar. The buildings had morphed from upscale and opulent to degraded and grotesque. No beautiful fences or flourishing gardens caught the moonlight, only the bare bricks of buildings. The street lamps were sporadically placed, and didn't give off a cheery white glow that those near her house did; but instead cast a harsh orangish yellow light on everything, making it even more unwelcoming.  
  
'I'm somewhere in the warehouse district most likely.'  
  
This was the sort of place her friends turned their noses at. Though none of them had actually been to the place, the warehouse district was said to be where the scum of Brooklyn lived. Whores and thieves inhabited this part of the city. Who knew what might happen to a poor defenseless rich girl in the big bad city? Her running slowed to a nervous skittering walk.  
  
The seemingly deafening sound of a pebble bouncing against a wall reached her ears, and she jumped nearly a foot off the ground. Every cell in her body froze completely. Heart pounding, she didn't dare look around but her ears were acutely attuned to any small sound. Almost quieter than a pin drop, she thought she could hear footsteps behind her. Was it just a trick of the mind? No, there it was again. Hailey quickened her steps, hoping to stumble upon a sign of life.  
  
'Oh sweet Jesus, thank you!' she thought as the sigh of a light and people spilling from a tavern filled her eyes.  
  
"Help me!" she rushed up to a heavily built man. "Please! There's someone after me!" Her frantic pleas seemed to fall on deaf ears as the man, clinging to a robust whore, grumbled something incoherent, and drunkenly shoved her away; kissing the whore on the mouth as he did. Her eyes filled with horror.  
  
Was the man really going to ignore her? In desperation she ran up to two more people. One man shoved her away; the other man nearly choked her to death in an attempt to kiss her. Utterly repulsed she broke away and lurched forward, her now painfully swollen ankles carrying her as far into the darkness as they could.  
  
Tears streamed down her face, disappearing into the gloom trailing behind her, and broken ragged sobs filled the night. IN her frenzied stupor, she barely noticed the rough hands grab her by the shoulders until she was slammed against the wall of an alcove. All the sobs caught in her throat, and the rush of tears slowed to a trickle as she found herself staring into cold black eyes.  
  
Every cell in her body cried out to scream, but no sound would escape. Her breath came in short, shallow gulps and she trembled violently; though her assailant didn't notice at all.  
  
"What are you running from sweetheart?" the boy asked, grinning snidely at her. "It wouldn't be me now would it?"  
  
From somewhere unseen a second voice laughed, and any last shred of hope left in her vanished. Weakly she shoot her head and pressed herself even more against the wall.  
  
"Aw Morris, I think she's scared!" the first one turned to the now visible second boy and laughed. When his stony gaze returned to her, his nails dug even further into the exposed skin of her arm. Hailey flinched, gasping as a sharp pain shot through her.  
  
"Come on doll face," he said, drawing closer to her. "I won't hurt ya. if ya cooperate."  
  
Roughly his mouth covered hers, his sloppy wet lips gnashed against hers with painful force. Fighting violently, she shoved him away with a small cry of terror. Bad idea. The back of one very large hand came across her face with a smack, sending her stumbling forward. Dots danced before her eyes, and the pale skin f her cheek - already sensitive from the cold - stung like mad. She knew the imprint of his hand still lingered.  
  
"Oliver, gimme a turn!" the second boy pushed in front of the first and shoved her against the wall. The one called Morris grinned fully at her, his crooked yellow teeth standing out blatantly against the staunch white of his hideous face. He was even uglier than the first.  
  
'This is it!' she thought, slumping in defeat. 'I'm going to die! Out here in the slums of Brooklyn.' Searching hands roughly prodded her upper body. She stifled back another scream as dirtied nail broke skin.  
  
"Oww!" Morris stopped his groping for a moment and rubbed the back of his head. "What the."  
  
There was a large thump above them and 3 pairs of eyes turned towards the noise. Spot stood on the fire escape stairs, slingshot trained on the 2 boys' heads. Relief broke over her in sweet blissful waves. The boys ignored her for a moment to deal with the newfound distraction.  
  
"Well if it aint da Delancy brotha's." he spoke, eyes flashing with anger.  
  
"Whaddaya want Spot?" Oliver asked. He was obviously annoyed by the disturbance. Spot just smirked.  
  
"We found ourselves a new toy." Morris added with a snide grin.  
  
Bad thing to say.  
  
Spot's eyes flashed fiery green, anger hardening his stony face.  
  
"Keep yoah hands off a' her," he growled, standing perfectly still. The Dalency's looked amused at this, and exchanged snickers between themselves.  
  
Strength renewed by the reappearance of Spot, Hailey lashed out, striking Morris weakly across the back of the head. Her blow was ineffective, but it did make him stumble forward a few steps. A huge grin spread across her face at her small moment of triumph. It was painfully shattered when Morris's clenched fist struck across her face. The pain was so intense for a moment that everything slipped into red and her breath choked in her throat. Not even a scream came, just a gurgle of pain as she fell against the wall.  
  
Though too far gone to realize it, she had set in motion the wrath of Spot's anger. At the sight of seeing Hailey's clearly battered form crumple against the wall, Spot lashed out. Jumping from his perch, he landed in a crouched position on the hard stones of the street. Instantly he was up, whipping out his cane and brandishing it like a sword in front of him. The obvious stupidity of the Dalancy's became apparent as they chuckled to themselves.  
  
'Obviously don't get ta Brooklyn too often,' he thought, as they grinned at him. It was apparent they thought they had advantage in numbers and size.  
  
Hailey tried her best to disappear into the bricks of the wall, squeezing her eyes shut to block out the fight ensuing mere feet from where she stood. Painful screams echoed in the very atoms of the air, racking her brain and making her flinch. Though she didn't need to open her eyes to figure out who was screaming and who was beating. It was like being caught in an endless bad dream. The sound of Spot's cane cracking bone after bone would no doubt haunt her dreams for months to come. Mingling with the sound of anguished cries lingered the buzzing caused by her own battle wound.  
  
"Come on man, lets get out of here!" one of the boys (she couldn't tell because her eyes were closed) blurted, and the sound of two clumsily stumbling feet faded off into the distance.  
  
~~~~  
  
(A/N= ahhh! mucho problem! what am I going to do? this is bad! i'm out of stuff to upload! this means I actually have to write something now!!! bad bad bad! oh well, here goes nothing!) 


	11. Cinnamon Desire

Silence. It reverberated in the alley thicker than the blood pooled on the cobblestones. Had Spot left again? She didn't dare open her eyes for a few moments, in fear that the Delancy's had infact won and she'd find Spot lying dead on the floor.  
  
No chance of that though.  
  
The thorough ass-kicking that the Delancys received was evident enough by their hasty retreat. But then why wasn't Spot making any noise? Not even the shuffling of feet was heard, just a booming stillness that threatened to drive her mad. With great hesitance, her eyes fluttered open to reveal everything she's feared. Blood, varnishing the cobblestones, and bits of ripped cloth from Oliver and Morris's clothes. The most relieving, but frightening thing of it all was Spot.  
  
He hadn't taken flight as she had first deducted, but in fact still stood in the alley - watching her, studying her as if she held the key to a great enigma. His green eyes were wild with a roaring fire; induced by the fight. Hailey swallowed nervously under his gaze, but didn't dare move.  
  
The emerald flames were more intense then after he'd pummeled Marcus. But there was something else there too. A spark of untamed need, making his stony features seem almost wicked. It wasas if he were grinning at her, but not a single muscle moved in his face.  
  
"Spot." She breathed out his name like a mantra. Almost unseen by her he took a single step forward.  
  
"I." she continued. Words slipped from her tongue, leaving her completely speechless. Spot continued his advancements forward, drawing closer and closer to her with every second.  
  
"I."  
  
Everything was growing fuzzy. Mere inches stood between them now, and the determined inferno had only intensified with each step he took. It was almost hypnotizing, the green of his eyes. Completely serine one moment and raging hotter than the sun the next. Endlessly deep emeralds, canvases of unspeakable pain and emotion. But they were so beautiful. she was drowning, she could feel it. Slipping forever into a hazy sleep that captured her every cell.  
  
One hand slammed against the wall near her head, and the other grabbed her face roughly. His lips imprisoned hers, and a white hot light exploded around them. The cinnamon taste of her mouth sent him plummeting rapidly towards the brink of self-restraint, as he kissed her roughly, passionately, drinking in every drop he could. She wasn't fighting him as he'd expected. It was originally to scare her off, send her running for the hills. The soft moan he coaxed from her though was proof enough his mission failed.  
  
Skilled fingers dove into the silky mass of brown curls as he pressed her fully against the wall. The need to get close to her was too much. A warning sign popped up in the back of his mind, barely heard over the thudding of his heart. She wasn't one of the nameless whores, she was the fiancée to one of the soon to be richest men in all of New York.  
  
And she was beautiful. so beautiful.  
  
Pounding the wall in anger, Spot tore away from her, trying his hardest to ignore the load moan of protest elicited from her trembling form. With all the speed he possessed, he bolted from the alley, trying desperately to calm his pounding heart.  
  
~~~  
  
(A/N = muahhahahaha! More! Hows this for all of your greedy little fanfic hearts? Now I have to warn you I've started the mutiny that is school once again, so fanfics will be scarce. Well maybe not scarce but still.. Not as frequent as over spring break. But I am writing some during history *snoooooore!!* but yeah! Here's hwat you've all been waiting for! The kiss! Muahahaha! But for all you finale shippers, theres nothing to fear - it was purely a kiss out of desire. This doesn't mean they've admitted love yet. That comes at the end. Okay, I'd like to that Butterfly and LadyofSlytherin for flaming my email box with "write your fanfic" letters. Love you girlies! And the rest of you! Big *muah*! p.s. and for those of you who watch, its an uber-shippy month of Lizzie Mcguire! Tape and be merry!) 


	12. Slingshot

Hailey gasped for breath in the darkness. She felt as if she were going to faint. Everything played out to her in full detail as her mind sorted through what just happened.  
  
'He. kissed me.' She thought numbly.  
  
The searing heat of his lips still lingered, his potently male taste. Every cell in her body screamed out in a tangle of emotions. The winds of confusing torment slashed at her heart; it was already pounding like mad in her ears. It was unclear whether fear from the attack, relief from the escape, or excitement from his kiss was the dominant emotion. Or perhaps it all meshed together, cutting off her link to the rational world.  
  
'Spot's gone.' She realized numbly, though she didn't move to act on it.  
  
For minutes - hours maybe - Hailey just stood, leaning faintly against the wall. In the space of just a few minutes her "perfect princess" guise had been demolished. The impenetrable steel bars of the cage that held her soul were vanquished.  
  
'It's what I've always wanted,' she knew.  
  
Despite her newfound freedom, she felt completely alone.  
  
Spot had left, probably for good despite his heroics. When her parents found out about her city slum gallivanting, they'd disown her. Marcus, the slithering slimy hideous wretch, would drop her in the blink of an eye if her parents also shunned her. Even the girls she'd grew up with would turn their backs and pretend she never existed if she suddenly dropped from the high society circles.  
  
'And to top it off, I'm lost.'  
  
The final thought of despair drifted lazily through her mind. Only the vivid memory of Spot's lips on hers kept her from breaking down and sobbing hysterically there in the grime of the alley.  
  
"You Hailey?" a voice startled her out of her thoughts.  
  
Eyes darting wildly for a moment, she watched as a girl emerged from the shadows. Her hair was black as midnight, and almost cat-like eyes stared back with hardened curiosity.  
  
"What?" Hailey croaked out, looking at her warily. The girl repeated herself, and she nodded. A pale slender hand was spit in and held out.  
  
"Name's Slingshot," the girl said. "Spot sent me ta take ya home."  
  
'Home.'  
  
It was a distant memory now, she'd lost the spark of home she would ever get home. Slingshot's willowy form moved with a quick lithe grace as she darted towards the alley opening. When Hailey didn't move she looked back expectantly.  
  
"Well, is ya comin'?" she asked.  
  
Smoothing down her rumpled dress, Hailey nodded shakily and followed the girl.  
  
As they walked in silence, Hailey studied the girl. She was quite pretty, though her appearance was marred by the rags that passed as her clothes. A cream colored shirt hung loosely, clashing with brown pants; both were two sizes too big.. Though she looked fragile, Hailey could tell by the fire in her eyes and the scars across her knuckles that she was probably just as tough as most of the scum that lurked the streets.  
  
"How do you know Spot?" Hailey asked, breaking the uncomfortable silence between them. Slingshot slowed her breakneck pace just slightly, glancing behind her shoulder for a fraction of a second.  
  
"He's mah best friend," she spoke. "Like a broahda ta me." Though she managed to keep her voice hard as stone, Hailey could sense the invisible smile cross her face.  
  
"So how's a goihle like ya end up all da way out heah?" Slingshot asked.  
  
'Well at least she's talking now.' Hailey thought, glancing curiously at the girl.  
  
"I.well.I." she fumbled with her answer, unsure of what to say. "I was looking for Spot."  
  
Amusement touched Slingshot's features at her bumbling embarrassment.  
  
"You Spot's new whore now 'eh?" the raven girl asked, jumping down a small dividing wall onto the street below. Blood rushed to Hailey's cold cheeks, flaming heat licked at her skin.  
  
"I beg your pardon?" she was absolutely appalled. "I'm not sure what Mr. Conlon told you, but we're merely friends."  
  
The snobby touch in her voice was only made worse by her obvious struggle to climb (not jump!) the 4 feet to the ground. A very un-ladylike snort was Slingshot's response to her statement.  
  
"Right." She said, "that's why he had ya against da wall."  
  
Hailey was too flustered to answer; she merely steamed behind her guide as they wound through the streets of Brooklyn.  
  
"I hafta admit," Slingshot continued, "when Spot came tah me and tolds me ta come n' get ya, I did think he was actin a bit strange. Thought ya might be different from da odahs."  
  
Hailey stiffened at this.  
  
"Others?" she sqeaked.  
  
"Yeah," the girl went on. "No goihl's eva been able ta hold Spot down. Dey fall on him like flies, but he gives dem da boot quick enough."  
  
An unknown sickness slithered from the pit of Hailey's stomach, up through her veins and clamped onto her heart. Poison-tipped spikes dug deep into the throbbing organ, and sucked the breath from her lungs. It was quickly followed by anger. Deep red hatred flashed through her mind.  
  
"Are any of them. of my social status?" she choked out. Slingshot snorted again, obviously amused with her epiphany.  
  
"Some times." She answered. "Most a dem roll wid da newsies, but every jack- skip and a few he'll rack up wid a scabbah."  
  
Hailey thought it wasn't possible, but the pain doubled.  
  
'That's all I am to him,' the words seared her mind. 'A worthless, nameless whore.'  
  
(A/N = see? I actually posted this weekend! Be proud of me! I wrote this frantically during school, and got busted several times by teachers but it was worth it! Come one now, this is Newsies! Slingshot's character is based on my girl LadyofSlitheren so everyone bow down and gravel at her feet. *I'm not wooorthy! I'm not wooorthy!* Okay shoutouts to new readers:  
  
"Me" - okay not quite sure who you are babe. This Eva?? I'd love to write a ficcie w/ you! Email me with the details!  
  
Plaid Pajamas - thanks so much for reading!! 68 days till harry! The CoS came out yesterday! Watch it in Spanish! Its hilarious!!!  
  
Sarah Kate - aww, that was sweet of you! I can tell you now I'm not the best. There are so many better out there than me, but I try. I'll email you cause I've updated, but thanks again for reading honey!  
  
Thanks for everyone else who didn't review, but read it anyway! Now here's your homework. Ya see the little purple button down there? CLICK ON IT!) 


	13. Returning Home

"Well heah we are. Home sweet home." Slingshot broke her thoughts.  
  
Looking with newborn eyes, Hailey blinked at her surroundings. Sure enough, the familiar green hedges and wrought iron fence stood majestically in front of her. Despite her constant loathing for everyone inside, the comforts her huge house inspired brought her immeasurable relief. The crackling fire, the soft blankets, clean clothes, light.  
  
"Thanks Slingshot," she said with genuine gratitude.  
  
"Naw..." the girl started to say, but was cut off when Hailey gave her a quick hug. Slingshot looked taken aback for a moment, unused to the foreign show of affection. Before she could say anything though, Hailey darted through the gate and up to the glowing warmth of the house.  
  
Silence resonated through the spacious house, betraying the end of Mrs. Tanager's party. Whether or not the Donovan's were still there was an entirely separate matter. The whole family was like a plague, crowding her days and haunting her dreams with no intention of letting up in the slightest way. Still, for the warmth of hot chocolate and a bed, she'd stand their suffocating presence, for once night at least. Hushed murmurs filtered lazily from the parlor.  
  
Words weren't quite understandable, but she could pick the high shrill of her mother and the bass of her father in among the jumble.  
  
'Time to sink or swim,' she thought, glancing at herself in the hallway mirror. The pale figure staring back at her greatly resembled a tattered rag doll. Her once perfect pinned up brown curls now hung in chaotic disarray and all the makeup had been washed away completely by tears. Even in the dress and heels, her ghastly blanch face looked nothing like that of an upper class young lady.  
  
' It'll have to do,' She didn't even bother to push some of the curls back into place. Taking a deep breath, she walked the last few feet to the parlor door and pushed it open softly.  
  
Whispers of ancient ones could've been heard in the silence that followed her entry. All the eyes in the room turned to her with shocked expressions; she simply stood placidly in the doorway with her hands folded, looking back at them. Both her parents were there, Marcus and his parents. even Mr. Pulitzer himself! Oh, how she hated that man with a passion.  
  
Everything from his overly-opulent black suit to his stubbly little goatee. All at once the silence was shattered.  
  
"Oh my baby girl!" Mrs. Matthews cried out, rising to her feet and mauling Hailey in a clinging embrace. "We thought you were dead! We were so worried."  
  
Confusion was the first thing that struck Hailey's mind. Not only at the warm welcome, but at the extent to which her mother took the fawning. Tears were streaming down her cheeks and ragged sobs tore continuously in a wailing testimony of her innermost emotions. This coming from her normally cold and snooty personality was very odd indeed. Then it clicked. Mr. Pulitzer was here, and she was attempting to portray a concerned mother to impress him.  
  
"Did he hurt you? Poor girl, we should have him arrested. loser class scum." Mrs. Matthews continued to blubber, and had somehow managed to maneuver Hailey onto the fainting couch.  
  
Right next to Marcus.  
  
She grimaced, as if in physical pain, as his hand snaked around her back in a mock display of comfort. Mr. and Mrs. Donovan probed her gently with questions; her own parents did the same with melodramatic undertones. All the while Marcus's slimy hand rubbed up and down her back. Through all of this she stayed completely silent, staring down at her hands in her lap.  
  
Silence was the best answer. It was neither a yes or no, and threw no accusations. People simply thought what they wanted with silence, which could easily be corrected later if the occasion arose.  
  
(A/N = okay, since none of you have decided to review in the past two weeks, you all get a SHORT snippit of the story, and I won't post any more until I get 5 reviews. 5 whopping big ones baby, so press the purple button and type!!! Muahaha, I'm evil cause lizzie is only 5 days away and I can't control the rabid shipper in my brain. Its eating me alive! Ahhhhh! (wow, okay, breathing..) so review I tell you. REVIEW!!!) 


	14. Ruminating

After a while their words washed right over her, and her mind began to wander aimlessly. Slingshot drifted into her thoughts, and she inwardly smiled. The girl was actually nice in her hardened way, much like Spot on the surface. She was tough as nails, but there was a soft friendly heart hidden beneath rock solid defenses. It came as a small relief to find a girl who wasn't all glamour and popularity like the rest of her friends.  
  
'I suppose living on the streets can do that to you.' She thought with a tinge of sorrow.  
  
Slingshot was really pretty beneath her "touch-me-and-I'll-bite-your-finger- off" exterior, and would look fabulous in a dress and shoes bought from the department store. Tie that long black hair up into a twist, and she'd look like a normal belle.  
  
Getting Slingshot to a high-society social function much less in a dress, would be as impossible as marrying a boy from the streets---  
  
'Damn!' she swore silently as Spot drifted into her thoughts despite her internal protests.  
  
The beautiful green of his eyes had burned permanent holes into her memory, and would haunt her until the day she died. Blood flushed her face at the recollection of the almost spiteful desire in his eyes, the searing heat of his kiss, his rough fingers running expertly across her face and through her hair.  
  
"No!" she cried out in protest of the memory, shooting up from her seat.  
  
The comforting crooning from the adults ceased as everyone looked at her with vacant, dumbfounded expressions.  
  
"What's the matter dear?" Mrs. Donovan asked, standing up from her crouched position as she put a hand on her shoulder. Meekly, Hailey looked up, her already crimson cheeks burned unbearably at the realization that her last outburst was audible.  
  
"Nothing," she murmured out, glancing down at the smirking Marcus. "I just... I think I need a little time to myself is all. It's been a long night, and I think I just need some sleep."  
  
Mrs. Marcus smiled half-heartily, and nodded. Hailey could only manage the smallest of polite curtseys. Side-stepping her mother's grasp, she bolted quickly from the room and raced up the staircase to her room.  
  
"Confounded scum. Society would be better of we were just rid of the bastards." Mr. Pulitzer's harsh growl followed her up the stairs. ___  
  
Rain pounded mercilessly on the windowsill, lulling the thoughts and memories into a meshing trance in Spot's brain. The hours slipped by, but sleep stayed right out of grasp. Slingshot popped her head in around midnight to say she had returned, but didn't mention anything of Hailey. Damn that woman, she wouldn't leave him alone! Physically of course, she was miles away - on the other side of Brooklyn. But every last detail of her face haunted him.  
  
He could still recollect the fear in her eyes when the Delancys had her up against the wall. Pain and fear was part of his daily world. He lived by it, thrived on it, life wasn't normal without it. He'd disciplined himself to block it out and let it wash over him like the rest of the horrors of his street life. Her fear had somehow slipped past his defenses and now robbed him of any hope of sleep.  
  
"Who needs sleep anyway?" he grumbled out, watching a prismatic raindrop trickle slowly down the dirty window pane.  
  
The soft snores of his fellow bunkmates sent envy dancing down his spine. Here he was, supposedly the toughest boy in pretty much all of New York, and he was letting an upper class, sniveling little rich girl bring him down. It was even worse than Jack's little stint with Sarah!  
  
Lightening buzzed through his veins at the revelation, and instantly he hardened himself to every thought of her. He, Spot Conlon, wouldn't never ever be dragged down by a useless female. Punching his pillow to silently punctuate his point, Spot flopped unceremoniously onto the squeaky cot and sought out the dreams that wouldn't come.  
  
~~~  
  
(A/N-okay I apparently made some enemies last week, so here's my gift to you. Spot won't fall all over Hailey like so many of the "Gary Stu" Spots out there, at least not yet. And if anyone has any suggestions on how to make Hailey less "Mary Sue" then email me cause I'm fresh out! Oh, and Eva if your reading this I want my Newsies DVD back! Love you all, enjoy the update!) 


	15. Taffy's

Spot took a long drag of his cigar, and slapped another 50 cents down onto the table.  
  
"Alls or noting boys." he growled out. Poker was an common occurance in the lodging house, and the stakes usually rose high, but Spot's recklessness in tonight's game was recieved with a variety of odd stares.  
  
"Dats a week's pay! Spot are ya sure ya wants to..." Bug started to complain, but a glare silenced him.  
  
"If ya can't play wid da big boys," Spot stated, "ya can sleep with da pups."  
  
This was met with hoots and laughter from the other boys. Everyone had noticed Spot's newfound audaciousness, but no one dared comment on it. Only Slingshot, who sat in the corner with eyes gleaming, knew the truth. She had the power to say something too - Spot rarely got angry with her - but she kept her mouth shut. It would prove a happy bargaining chip for the future, and it was driving the other boys mad.  
  
  
"Rumor has it ya soaked a couple 'a Delancy's," a short pipsqueak of a boy named Sprout piped in. Spot grinned, and cracked his knuckles.  
  
"None of dem Manhatten scabbah's gonna roll on my turf." he shot back. He was flaunting, he knew it, but he felt the need to be in power. It was like a drug, a constant high, addictive in its danger. Some of the boys folded. Bug through 50 cents on the table, as did Snog and Skitter.   
  
"Lay up Spot, lets see what ya've got." Slingshot said from the corner. He looked up at her, and grinned, revealing a full house of 4's and queens.  
  
"Fours and whores boys." he said, his voice dripping with victory. Groans arose from the festive group, and cards were thrown in defeat. Spot gathered up the small pile of change, and dropped it into the little cloth satule, listening to the clink with satisfaction.  
  
Though night was upon them, the festivities had just begun.  
  
"Damn, i'm due for a drink." He picked up his cane and slingshot as he spoke, "who's up for Taffy's"  
  
The grudge from lost money was quickly erased in the promise of drinks and women. Like animals to the kill, the boys of the Brooklyn Lodging House descended on the tavern.  
  
Thick smoke filled the air, twisting and curling; wrapping around the bodies of the boys and holding them in a tempting embrace. Snatches of a long-forgotten Irish jig were being played in a far corner by older men - fishermen by the looks of them.  
  
"Hey Spot," the man behind the bar Mr. O'Tool grinned at him. "Always a pleasure to have you in here."  
  
"Always a pleasure ta be here Mr. O'Tool." Spot replied, "Hows bout a round of drinks for me fine boys heah."  
  
Simultanious cheers arose from the group, as the lot of them quickly took over a few tables in the center of the room. He looked around, surveying the scene before him. It was in such sharp contrast to last night's party at Hailey's house. There, everyone was stuck up and snooty - whispering as if the slightest sound would shatter their eardrums. Here, everything was yelled in boisterous tones. The dancing wasn't presice or up to date, and there was no code of behavior to adhere to. Men drank, women flirted, and the ambience was merry.  
  
"Well lookie here," a low sultry voice came from behind them. "If it aint Mista Spot Conlon come ta join us for da evenin."  
  
A smirk touched Spot's lips even before he turned around. It was obvious who it was.  
  
"Heya Peaches," he drawled out, wrapping an arm around the girl's waist, and snaking her into his lap. Peaches was a regular whore at Taffy's, and was one of Spot's favorites. "Ya lookin dalicious tanight."  
  
As if in ritual, he pulled her close and kissed her lipstick-stained lips fiercely. Slingshot verbalized her obvious distaste by coughing loudly, but he ignored her. The extremely lowcut red dress that Peaches wore did little to tame the fiery red in her hair, and though she was packing a pistol somewhere in that tight little dress, it would be just as easy to drag her into the back room for a couple of hours. There'd be time for sex later though, now he was here to drink.  
  
The whiskey shot burned all the way down his throat, making little red dots dance in his eyes for few seconds. The first one was always the worst, and all that weak champaigne from last night didn't help much either. He could go through 3 or 4 of these and a few beers before even starting to get drunk. Sprout was half way done with his glass of beer and was already looking tipsy.  
  
'The young ones can never hold it down,' Spot thought, watching the boy with amusement.  
  
Sprout was relatively new to the newsie business, and therefore unaccostum to the fine pleasures of the tavern. His eyes lit up with an almost child- like joy at the sight of the plentiful women and booze avalible to them.  
  
"Word on the street says you soaked a couple of scabs from Manhatten," Mr. O'Tool came up with another round of drinks. Chuckles went around the table. Word travled fast among the lower class, and the Delancy's were a common annoyance to Brooklyn. Peaches giggled flippantly, running a hand over Spot's chest. His hands tightened around her waist, and he smiled lazily up at the tavern owner.  
  
"'Suppose I might 'ave." he remarked. "Couple a deadbeats tink day's all special."  
  
"He taught dem soon enough!" Bug said, raising his froathing mug in salute.  
  
Occasionally fights would break out in the tavern over a whore, or who's paying the bill, but generally things stayed quiet. Everyone in the place knew who Spot was, and either liked or respected him, so the odds of him or one of his boys getting caught in the middle were unlikely. Every once and a while some big shot swaggerer would waltz in on his high horse, and start something up but it almost always ended as quick as it began. Be it with a knife or with fists, Spot was one of the best fighters in all of Brooklyn.  
  
'Helluva time gettin heah though,'  
  
Scars from fights and beatings littered his body, and memories locked away in the back of his mind served as haunting reminders of the hardships and trials he was forced into. It had toughened him, made him strong, and brought him to where he was today: with a beautiful whore on his lap, a drink in his hand, and a band of followers ready and willing to follow his orders to their death if need be.  
  
A festive jig started up, and its cheerful melody meandered over to their table. Several of the boys grabbed whores and started dancing. Slingshot, almost blushing, accepted Bug's offer, and they too made their way to the small space in the center of the room where tables had been cleared away and dancing ensued.  
  
"Come on Spot, lets dance." Peaches whispered in his ear with a toying smile. Inwardly he groaned. Dancing, though he was good, was never really one of his favorite things to do - especially not with 2 whiskey shots and a beer settling in his almost empty stomach. But the devilish look in her eyes made him give in, and he rose with her. Peaches was quite a good dancer, almost seductive in the way she moved.  
  
Wrapping his arm tightly around her waist, he spun her around the room - enjoying the melodic twinkling of her cackle as they flew. Something nagged at the back of his mind however, like a mosquieto in his ear. It irritated him to no avail, but wouldn't stop presenting itself despite the stimulating moment he'd been placed in. As the music drifted, so did the memories of last night, dancing with Hailey in his arms. Peaches was skinny but boisterous and robust - typical whore material. Hailey was fragile and willowy, and though there was mischief behind her pretty smile, she was like a faerie in his arms.  
  
'Damnit!'' he cursed silently. 'Get yoah mind off dat blasted scab, and see what ya have in front of ya!'  
  
Peaches twisted and swayed in his arms, fitting her supple curves perfectly against his body in that bewitching way of hers. The music pounded relentlessly in his head, weaving its way through his brain until it seemed to occupy every fiber in his being. Her thick, calloused fingers danced across his back and caressed his hair with a maddening slowness as he spun her around and around. Some of the people around them actually bothered to follow trendy dance steps - but most just moved to their own little beat. The final chords of the song were bowed out on the fiddle, and the entire tavern erupted in applause.  
  
"Thank you ever so much Mr. Conlon," she bowed, stumbling slightly from all the alcohol in her system, and let out a drunken little giggle.  
  
"My pleasah," he bent down and kissed her hand.  
  
"Spot!" one of the boys called from the table where they were all returning to. "Come check it out! Looks like we gots ouah selves a scabbah!"  
  
Snaking his arm around Peaches' waist, he strutted over to the table. The boy pointed enthusiastically towards the door. Spot glanced over, rather uninterested, and stiffened at what he saw. Hailey stood in the doorway, with an unknown servant boy beside her, staring at him with unmoving eyes. ~ ~ ~  
  
(A/N = ha! More for you all! Okay, I have two things to say, before I continue. #1 - for those of you who write MST. please please PLEASE don't MST my story! I'm begging you! I know its not the best but please! #2 - I hate Mary Sue's! I know Hailey is a Mary Sue.. *sobs and falls to knees.* there! I've admitted it! She's a Mary Sue! You can all throw rotten fruit of you want, I'll take it like a woman.. *cringes* I've been brooding about this whole Mary Sue thing all week, and I have one thing to say to all those people who troll for Mary Sue's. simply, I write for my own personal enjoyment, and the fact that you guys read is fantastic and I love you all but Hailey is going to be a Mary Sue cause that's the kind of character I like to write. *sighs in relief* felt good to get that off my chest. Okay, so school is almost out.. 9 days.. And I'm 16!!!! Yay! Happy birthday to me! Send cards! Presents! Spot jumping out of a cake! Love you all! p.s. I wrote more today! Do I please the massing hoards?) 


	16. A Scab in the Mix

He tensed. It couldn't be, could it?  
  
'What da hell is she doin heah?'  
  
Vaguely he remembered telling her about Taffy's as she danced. But why was she going through the trouble of actually coming here? Most of the eyes in the tavern were glued on her - the appearance of higher class was a rare occasion indeed - but she keep her gaze on only him. Snog shoved his chair aside, and strutted over to where Hailey stood. The boy, probably a servant, at her side stiffened.  
  
"Madam," Snog bowed deeply, " can I offer ya a glass of champagne?"  
  
The other boys at the table snorted at his blatant stab at her society, but she didn't even look at him. He was obviously pissed at this, and made a swipe at her arm to tell her off, but she advanced forward towards Spot. He matched her gaze for all its intensity, his arm tightening around Peaches' waist unconsciously.  
  
"This your newest whore?" Hailey gestured to the voluptuous girl on his lap.  
  
'Damn, that came out wrong.' She yelled at herself silently, but the rage boiling in her veins was cutting off all link to rationality. The slightest look of surprise touched his face at the bite in her tone, but it was quickly masked.  
  
"No darlin'," Peaches answered for him. "I'm his favorite whore."  
  
This received many laughs from the boys around the table, and Spot grinned.  
  
'Disgusting!' Hailey rolled her eyes, 'Openly admitting to being a whore. she has no sense of self worth.'  
  
Again, she locked gazes with Spot. He smirked at her. She was in his realm now, the tables had turned.  
  
"But if yoah lookin for a man sweethaht." Snog snaked an arm around her waist, which was quickly shoved away without breaking eye contact.  
  
Finally she moved. Reaching inside her little black purse, she pulled out 50 cents. With more force than nessesary she flung it onto the table. Oooh's and ahh's from the others were prominent as everyone grabbed for the shiny coin. Peaches got it first, and stared at it with a child-like fastination.  
  
"That's for saving me." She spat out.  
  
"I don't want yoah money," he countered as quickly as she had spoke. Peaches had other ideas however. Playfully, she stuck out her tongue, revealing the 50-cent piece on it.  
  
"Ya want it now?" she teased.  
  
Spot hesitated a fraction of a second. Part of him was screaming no about kissing Peaches in front of Hailey. A very small part of him. Instantly, Spot ravished Peaches' mouth, sparring tongues. The girl grabbed his head, yanking hard at his hair as she roughly pressed her lips against his. She was delicious as always, the scent of peaches wafting to his nostrils. Smiling inwardly, he tasted metal, and pulled away.  
  
Hailey's expression remained completely unreadable, but a deep sadness churned in the aquatic depths of her eyes. Reaching inside his mouth with his thumb and middle finger, Spot pulled the 50 cents off his tongue and held it up for all to see. Most of the tavern erupted in applause at his erotic little endeavor, and Peaches was grinning like an idiot. She loved the attention, no matter who it came from.  
  
"Mr. O'Tool, buy me friends anotha round at da bar," he said, flicking the coin at the bartender. With a heafty smile, Mr. O'Tool nodded and walked around the bar.  
  
Hailey said nothing at all, she just stared at him, one eyebrow raised in question. It was plain as day she was disgusted by the scene, but pain swam across her face as well. For a millisecond he debated taking it back, but decided against it on all fronts. No way would he chance his reputation on a scab. Especially not one as dangerous as her.  
  
"Miss Matthews?" the servant boy came up at her side, touching her arm gently. He looked to be about 12, with jet black hair and pale skin. There was a softness about him that was almost feminine, but it was due to his age. "Perhaps we should leave."  
  
A servant wid good English. Dats a bit annoyin'  
  
Spot thought, glaring at the boy. He clearly ignored the newsie however, focusing only on his master. Hailey looked at the boy, and smiled softly at him. It was a pretty smile, Spot noticed with mild annoyance, one that Peaches could never master.  
  
"Your right," she told him kindly. "Lets go." Then she turned her gaze to Spot and growled out,  
  
"My business is finished here."  
  
That said, she turned on her "bought-straight-from-Italy" mucho expensive heel and stormed out.  
  
"Good bye sweethaht!" Snog called after her, eliciting laughter from the people around him. Spot watched her disappear into the chilled night air, a mixture of self-hatred and unquenchable loathing towards her racking his brain.  
  
~~~  
  
(A/N - summers here! Oh summer summer summer summer summer! Eat that you homework loading natzis! Ha ha! *cackle of freedom* 3 whole beautiful months with nothing to do but write newsies fanficition! Isn't life wonderful?? Okay, shout outs to all who reviewed.  
  
Shannon - I wrote as fast as I can dearie. Thanks so much for reviewing though! I'll email you as well. we'll talk Spot and newsies and all that jazz.  
  
CiCi - hmmm.. Your giving me birthday ideas. when did you say yours was again? Hehe! When you get married, and your bachlorette party, I'll have Gab Damon jump out of a huge frosting filled cake wearing nothing much a loin cloth. Fun huh?  
  
Chewy - Hailey's a shapeshifting fiend my good friend! She magickally teleported herself to Taffy's, with the servant who flew on a broom. Okay not really, but that would've been friggin awesome!!  
  
Sarah Kate - that's a very pretty name! is it your real one, or an alias? Either way I love it. I try and write evil, diabolical cliffhangers, though I'm sorry to say I'm not the cliffhanger queen quite yet. I'm getting there!  
  
Okay, I wrote, now you all review! If you don't. no one but CiCi gets Spot jumping out of their cake! You know you all want it. hehe! Skittles!) 


	17. Beneath the Water

She hated herself. She hated him for making her hate herself. She hated herself for hating him - even if it was for making her hate herself. As Hailey dropped several coins into the small boy's hand, she even hated the wind for whipping at her skin in those few brief moments she stood with the door open.  
  
"How's Mrs. McCather doing dear? Better I hope? You took an awful long time over there." Mrs. Matthews called out from where she and a friend sat in the parlor. "Did she like the muffins?"  
  
Hailey rolled her eyes, unseen by her mother. Before going out, she had made the feeble excuse that she was taking a basket of muffins to their sick friend Mrs. McCather. Despite her time crunch, she had in fact stopped off at Mrs. McCathers, if only for a few brief moments to wish her good health and deliver the food. The rest of time however, had been spent at the horrible Taffy's pub.  
  
'Taffys? I don't believe I've heard of it. It sounds charming!'  
  
Snippets of a conversation they had at her party grated through her head. How utterly wrong she was.  
  
"She's doing just fine mother. She thanks you for the basket, and invites you to come have tea next week!" Hailey called back, fighting to keep her voice cheerful. All the while she was darting as quickly as possible up the stairs to the sanctuary of her bedroom.  
  
A fire already danced in the hearth, radiating a cheery feeling to touch all the walls. It barely made a scratch in the hardened surface of her heart. Too much pain had assaulted her in the smoky depths of the pub - too many images that would haunt her for days.  
  
'Why does he bother me so much?'  
  
There were several answers to her question, but she only chose to believe one. Spot was different from all the boys she encountered in society. Rich boys acted according to the rules laid out before them. They were all raised exactly the same, and craved only one thing - money. Money, power, and an obedient little puppy of a wife who would do nothing more than sit at home, drinking tea and gossiping, then welcome him home with a modest kiss and a pearly white smile. It was as if there were a model for them, and each boy fit it perfectly, with the acceptation of hair and eye color. They even dressed alike! It was nauseating! Spot had been such a refreshing change of company, and she had learned in those few hours to crave his conversation. He had treated her with courtesy at first, it was nice enough, but he didn't blatantly flirt like all the others did. He had actually given her something intellectually stimulating to think and talk about.  
  
"Can I get you something milady?" Louisa asked softly, breaking into her thoughts.  
  
'Yeah, maybe a piece of sanity,'  
  
It was a nice thought at least.  
  
"A hot bath would be nice, thank you Louisa," Hailey told her with as much gentleness as she could muster. Sensing the tenseness of her mistress, Louisa nodded with a quick smile and disappeared into the bathroom.  
  
Finally alone. Alone to her tears. But the tears wouldn't come. Instead, pearls of rage leaked into her heart. Scenes inside the pub she'd so desperately tried to push away now came pouring back.  
  
'Peaches,'  
  
Even her name broke fresh anger into Hailey. Her blonde hair, her big breasts, her ruby lips. she was perfect for Spot. Hailey's friends often whispered behind their teacups and gloved hands about women who sold themselves for money. It was a foreign concept until tonight; women who had less than no self worth. Giving themselves up to the whims and money of men.  
  
'But that's the kind of women Spot likes,'  
  
It was obvious from the get go that he was a non-commitment kind of guy. Slingshot was most likely the only person in the world he loved, and her as a sister and not a lover. He certainly did enjoy the pleasures of the flesh, if last night was any judge. It was amazing the passion he inflicted on his little whore, the strength of his kiss, the obvious dazed look in his eyes when he had finally gotten the coin.  
  
'That's the last time I give him money.'  
  
Not only did he retrieve it in the most disgusting of manners, but he then went and carelessly spent it on more alcohol.. of which he and his vile little gang had obviously already drank plenty. Clearly, their time after the bridge and her party meant absolutely nothing to him.  
  
'Slingshot told me.. he has a million whores. Some of them are even on the same financial plane as I am. Why should I think myself any different in his eyes?'  
  
Despite her desperate fight to will it away, the pain at that thought stung fresh.  
  
"Madam, your bath is ready," Louisa informed her softly. Hailey jerked her head towards her maid, snapping roughly out of her current thought train.  
  
"Thank you Louisa." She said a bit too curtly. The woman shided away, flinching, which only served to worsen Hailey's mood.  
  
"If you need anything else.." Louisa whispered, before turning to leave. Generally, Hailey made it a priority to be nice to the serving staff. Despite her mother's beliefs that people of lower stature deserved all the respect of toe scum, she tried her best to treat them equally. Its probably what made Louisa cringe, her sudden change in attitude. Roughly stripping off her dress and gauzy shift, Hailey let her now shaking body sink deep into the porcelain claw foot bathtub. Everything hurt, inside and out. Letting herself go, Hailey slid even further down, until her head dipped under the steaming water. Opening her eyes, she stared up at the ceiling shifting with light and color above her head. Drowning.  
  
'Its not the worst way to go,' she thought, her mind wandering back to a few nights ago. She would've drown in the icy water below the Brooklyn Bridge had Spot not come along and pulled her back to the light. Right now, death seemed friendly next to the pain he'd unwittingly forced on her heart.  
  
~~~~~~~  
  
(A/N = wow, you guys I owe you an apology. I've barely updated even though its summer, and I feel really really bad about it! I hope this is long enough, I've been scratching away all morning to bring this to you. Shout outs for those who reviewed::: CiCI - I love you too honey. And you know you want Spot in a loin cloth. Ya'd be crazy not to! *wheels out cake and places it in front of you* you have 3 guesses. What's gonna jump out of the cake???  
  
Jade Shintz - Spot is being a jerk, but he's so damn cute, I cant hate him!! Now peaches on the other hand. she does need a new job. Got any suggestions? Human piniata maybe?? Hmm.  
  
Chewy - *hands you a teleport machine* knock yourself out. Hailey may be rich and pampered, but she can open up a can of whoopass on Spot when need be. Oooh, fun mental pictures!!  
  
Becca Hood - noo! Don't give up on me!! I know it takes me forever to write, but I'm getting there! And hand me a tomato, I want in on the fun.  
  
Lexy Savoy - Mrs. Matthews is such a wimp, I couldn't resist Spot spit- shaking her. Thanks for reading babe!!  
  
Okay, I'll get more up ASAP. Oh, and everyone go out and get the Gangs of New York soundtrack. Full of Irish music! Good Brooklyn party fun!! Muahahaha! Love ya!) 


	18. In the Eyes of the Beholder

The last remnants of night clung desperately to the dusty corners of the room as sunlight began filtering in through the window. A splitting headache pounded Spot's head as he forced his eyes open. Way too much alcohol. Or maybe it was the sex. Who knows? Whatever it was, he felt like shit. A deep groan rumbled up from his throat, which he suppressed just in time to let sleep the beauty by his side. Peaches lay next to him, her limbs twisted in the white sheet that covered them both.  
  
Work started later that day - the bumbling fool of a mayor decreed that all the shops would open a whole 3 hours later than normal. Something about the arrival of a newborn baby. Not that it affected him any - it was three more hours to wander aimlessly the streets of Brooklyn, soaking up the stares of all the scabs that dared look his way. Peaches wouldn't object to a few more hours of fun, she'd gladly welcome the extra cash. In the heat of passion she'd whisper random sweetness about him being the best, the biggest, her favorite. Combined with the heady rush of crazed lovemaking, he was almost drunk enough to believe it. As his arousal died down and rationality returned to his mind, it became apparent that all of that was just sugar coated emptiness used to make him pay more.  
' Beauty is in the eyes of the beholder.  
  
It was a phrase as old as time, and damn did Peaches pass with flying colors. Half the men in the bar that weren't already married, and even some who did, would've given up their right arm for one night with her. When Spot was in the bar however, it was public news that she was off limits.  
  
'And seeing as how I'se neva gonna tie mahself down wid dat foolish notion of love, she's gonna be mine for a long time.' He thought, looking over at her.  
  
She, he knew, would have absolutely no complaints with his resolve. Though it was clear she was obviously smitten with him (most women were) Peaches had a natural tendency towards flirtation; and her experience as a whore would make her even more prone to seducing other men - even if they were together as more than for an occasional roll in the hay as it were.  
  
Now someone like Hailey.  
  
'Damnit! Stop tinkin bouts dat gawd aweful scab whore!' he shouted at himself.  
  
How dare she have the nerve to waltz right into his favorite hangout like she owned the place? She treated Snog like he was lower than dirt. Technically, Snog was lower than dirt, and deserved everything Hailey threw at him, but that didn't matter! It was his friends, his turf, and she had no write being there! Most importantly, how dare she feign sadness when it was right her fault - she was the one who brought it upon herself. Never mind that the look of sadness in her eyes that stabbed straight through him, one that could never possibly have been faked; or the valiant way she tried to hide all the pain he was obviously causing her.  
  
A shield snapped over his heart, freezing him instantly to any warm thoughts towards the enigma of Hailey Matthews. She was a selfish, wealthy bitch and that was that. End of discussion. Spot pushed himself up from the bed, letting the sheet fall in a pool around his naked form. The white didn't look nearly as good against his tanned skin as against Peaches soft skin. The skin that she oiled up and lotioned to get so soft.. Nothing down in the slums was just as it seemed. Men had hidden agenda, women were always more makeup than beauty, it became quite tiresome after a while. That was the way the world worked however, there wasn't much he could do about it. Even Hailey's world was painted in false wonder.  
  
"Her again. I should just kill da bitch. Dat'd keep her from my thoughts." He said aloud, roughly pulling his pants on. The thought of actually killing her was quite invigorating. Squeezing the lifes breath out of that tiny delicate throat, his cane raised high above her tiny frame, watching her make the face she made in the alleyway with the Delancys. A wave of nausea smacked into his with tremendous force. His immense, unending hatred for her clashed violently with the pricking emotions inspired by her smile and the warmth in her eyes. Lord knows he'd killed many in the heat of battle, but he'd never laid hand on a woman.  
  
Despite his hard-ass reputation and standard of living, he made it a priority never to strike a woman down cold. If one of the fairer sex attacked him, he would of course have no choice but to defend himself. A lot of the boys he knew would smack women up a bit, as if they were just dolls. Women were nothing to be attached emotionally too, but they certainly had more brains that the rag dolls that men treated them as. Hailey was a sure fire example of that. Hell knows she had more brains than the average man. The girls on his level had at least the skills to survive the daily grind of life. Most of the upper-class women didn't even have that. Hailey had something that most of them didn't though. true compassion.  
  
Life wasn't a game of survival to her, it was a cage. To most, the thought of marrying the wealthiest boy in most likely all of Brooklyn was a dream come true. Whore and scab alike would swoon at his mere smile. Hailey had all of that, and was willing to end her own life to escape what she felt was inexorable binds. For that reason, and that reason alone, he held the tiniest bit of respect for her  
  
~~~~~  
  
(A/N = I hope this was long enough for you all. I'm really tired, and my mind is going ahhhhh! Just like a crazy hamster so you'll hafta excuse the sanity. I suppose I'll do shout-outs now cause I have nothing better to do and my brain is fried.. Chewie - hey, I never thought about that. You know what would be nice? Seeing Spot in a porcelin tub with boilin water. Beats- thank you dahhhling, heres your update CiCi - *picks CiCi up off the floor* you cant faint yet my dear, the fun is only starting. *spot walks up with frosting on his body* hmmm, is anyone else in the mood for a little frosting?? Legs - maybe we should have a "pound-marcus" party" I'll come!!! Elrania- I don't know if they'll ever get on good terms. Maybe we could lock them together in a room... maybe they'll eat each other to death... SarahKate- camp again? That means you cant read my beautiful fanfic for like.. WEEKS!!! Ahhhhh!  
  
Gotta skittle, brain fried, must sleep, skittles!) 


	19. Asking a Memory

His exit was so silent, Peaches hardly stirred as he left the room. Taffy's held a tomb-like quality in the mornings. Quiet clung heavily to everything, save for the occasional rustle of sheets or the drunken grumble of a sleeping man. Some of his boys were there, spending a few days' earnings on the supple body of a whore. Most went home to sleep however, too drunk to stand up straight.  
  
After Hailey had left, the evening proceeded with its usual cheerfulness. Peaches had seemed even more eager to please him – probably thinking she had competition in the petite scab. Mr. O'Tool , who had risen early to clean up the mess of the previous night, nodded a goodbye to Spot; who pushed open the rickety wooden door and stepped into the lazy stream of activity in the street.  
  
He winced at the harsh light of the sun – it seemed to burn holes into his already aching head. It was a damn good thing he didn't start work for another hour and a half; he was no shape to present himself to the world. At the moment, he wanted nothing more than to find a nice little hole in the wall and pass out. Light was showing no interest in being nice to him, but none of the bars were open and his money supply was drained from last night's festivities.  
  
The lodging house was always an option, but the boys would ask too many questions about Hailey – questions he was in no fit state of mind or body to answer. Then there was always Slingshot to deal with. The girl was all he had in the world, and as such knew she had the power to chide him for behaving like an ass (which he managed to do a fair chunk of the time.) No doubt the moment he stepped into the door she would hound him for his unruly behavior in front of Hailey.  
  
'I'se was just standin up foah my reputation!,' he grumbled silently, kicking a loose stone as he went. 'Slingshot should undastand dat,'  
  
Even though she walked, talked, acted, and lived like a boy, she held a caring side to her that had – to his great annoyance – latched onto Hailey. According to her, the girl had "potential."  
  
"Potential ta do what? Become even moah of a no good snobby scabbah?" he asked the world, though no one around him took the slightest interest in what he had to say.  
  
The words "no good snobby scabber" had entered his mind a lot since the incident in the tavern. All the boys thought he was hot stuff, pulling what he did with Peaches, especially in front of Hailey. Slingshot glared at him with her usual stern eye throughout the rest of the night, slamming her whiskey with more of a stubborn determination than usual, as if to prove her point. Peaches… well she was Peaches.  
  
All the girls knew that he would never be tied down. Only a fool would try, and though Peaches was about as educated as the back of a horse, she had enough smarts never to attempt such a useless feat.  
  
'Dat's all she is… a fool,' It was his final attempt to drive her from his mind, and though it wasn't the best thing he could've come up with it seemed to do the trick. Perhaps it was the splitting headache that was chipping away at any other thoughts that occupied his brain, but whatever it was he was glad for the respite.  
  
Out of the corner of his eye, a large sign with faded violet paint beckoned him out of the sun. The Larpentur Opera House… his own sanctuary, stood before him – tempting him grandly with promises of shade and tranquility. It was too great a temptation to resist. Though he would only have a short while before the fine upstanding citizens of Brooklyn needed their daily papes, he swaggered across the street and creaked open the door.  
  
Deserted, as always. Despite his weariness, he smiled. Just how he left it. Looking back, he had no recollection of the short walk through the narrow hallways, only that when he collapsed on the musty old mattress, every nerve in his body screamed out with relief. One candle was lit, enough so that he wasn't blind in the darkness. Its warm glow flickered for a moment, making the dust on the walls gleam. Finally, he was alone. As he had done so many other nights (or in this case days) when everything was too tough, he rolled his head to one side and stared at the picture of his mother.  
  
"I'se shoah could use yoah help now mum," he whispered, his rich voice vibrating through the tiny room. "Don't know what ta do 'bout dis tricksy Miss. Matthews."  
  
A softness, hinting almost at tears, laced the edge of his voice – one he would only use in front of his mother. Emotions were for the weak, but he'd always felt an emotional closeness to the memory of his mother, even if it was only in fragments of recollections and an old photo. A warm, comforting sense of peace surrounded his body, one that often came to him after he spoke to her.  
  
Tugging gently at his mind, tempting him sweetly like a siren's call, sleep crept slowly over his body – enveloping him in a warm and happy darkness.  
  
~~~  
  
(A/N= hey yall! Okay first off, before I do anything else, we all must wish CiCi a very Spottie happy birthday! 2 more days! Yay! Second lovely piece of news, I am leaving for Ireland, yes Ireland on the 27th so I won't be able to post for a while. Ireland! That's where Spot was from! Gaaaah! Its my goal to find a boyfriend over there, though with my luck it aint gonna happen. Okay… shout outs!!  
  
Sarah Kate – welcome back from camp! Not too buggy I hope? I hate bugs *shivers* didja bring me a souviner??  
  
CiCi – do you like your public birthday announcement?? Hehe! I've got Spot on the phone right now checking out cake sizes so… whats your favorite kind of frosting?? Hehe! Happy birthday girl. Love ya to bits and pieces!! ^__^ how old are you turning?  
  
Chewy – its all right darling, I'm sure Spot understands. We all want to kill him at one point or another, it comes with the "bad boy territory." We could always shoot him with a tranqualizer dart and then… do evil things to him while he's unconscious! *grins*  
  
Must be off. The Emerald Isle awaits! ) 


	20. Welcome to Society

Spot's peaceful slumber was interrupted rudely by the grating sound of society's' wheels beginning to turn again.  
  
'Damn, three hours are up.'  
  
He could only pray that he wasn't late for work - after last night's partying he needed all the money he could get. The wavering light from the candle, that he had so stupidly forgotten to blow out, sputtered as he shoved the covers off his body. As much as he would have loved to bask in the shadows of the Larpentur, the jingling goodness of coins in his pocket tempted him more. Quickly snuffing out the candle with his fingers, he kissed two and pressed them to his mother's picture before slamming shut the door to his little room and bolting out into the sun-baked street.  
  
God it was hot. In the three hours he had slept, the temperature had risen several degrees. Running was not helping too much either, which is what he had to do to make it to work on time. As the small brick building came into view, he noted with much annoyance that he was almost the last person to arrive. No, Snog still wasn't there, but Slingshot sure was; sitting on top of a crate and looking at him with displeasure.  
  
"Spot, yoah late!" Sprout called out with a grin. Spot only scowled unhappily, and shook his head. The boys would talk, it was in their nature. It wasn't them he had to worry about, it was Slingshot.  
  
"What da hell do ya tink yoah doin?" she asked, low and deadly, as he took a seat beside her.  
  
"Don't staht Slingshot," he said, exhasperated, "Snog's not even heah yet." "Yeah Spot! Dat's Snog! What did ya expect?" she countered rather loudly. "Da office opens in less den a minute. If ya don't sell, ya don't get payed, and den we's all bagged."  
  
It was obvious she was worried, despite her attempts to be firm.  
  
"Hey," he told her sternly," I'll be okay. Don't ya worry 'bout me. Just had a long night."  
  
At the mention of "night" her eyes lit up, and the formings of smirk began, but she suppressed her urge to comment, and for that he was thankful. One more mention of Hailey Matthews and he would simply explode. A large thunk of the dirty window being creaked open banished momentarily all his thoughts, and a short balding man poked his head out to shout,  
  
"Get your papes!"  
  
Spot took his rightful place at the head of the line, and smacked down his last 10 cents down onto the grimy counter.  
  
~~~~~  
  
Life's pages had turned once again for Hailey, and familiar writing was scrawled out for her to enact. Leslie Benson and a few of her other friends were taking Hailey out for a day in the city to help her recuperate for the "tragedy at the party." Usually she would've come up with some excuse to stay home and avoid the social scene, but after last night's emotional beating, she needed some company - even if they were superficial. So for one day she was going to go against everything she fought on a daily basis and emerge herself in the fancy flutterings of upperclass society.  
  
"Oh Hailey dear," Leslie fawned the instant she stepped inside the entryway. "The girls and I are going to make you forget all about that dreadful party!"  
  
What an excellent way to forget about it. bringing it up.  
  
Hailey managed a small smile, and stepped aside as she and about 4 other girls shuffled inside.  
  
"There is simply so much I want to do today!" Leslie continued. "You haven't been out with us for months darling! I'm overjoyed you finally decided to break out of your cocoon!"  
  
Conversations with Leslie were usually one-sided, though not by choice. The girl just talked so much, and about everything.  
  
"Aside from the little fighting incident between Marcus and that god-awful street rat-" Hailey flinched at the derogatory comment about Spot "- everyone said Mrs. Tanager's party was the best of the year!"  
  
This actually drew a real smile from Hailey. Despite her loathing for such social events, her parents did try extra hard to make the party a success; and Leslie's words about social matters were never wrong. Her parents were the epitome of all things gossip, and as such gave their daughter a one way ticket to the information highway.  
  
"Marcus handled himself quite bravely I thought," she continued, twirling a piece of red hair around her finger wistfully. "It was very sad, the way that boy attacked him so ruthlessly."  
  
Again, a little red flag popped up in the back of Hailey's mind. She was itching to say that it was in fact Marcus who attacked Spot, not the other way around. At the moment though, she found she didn't have the strength to defend the boy who'd hurt her so badly, and let yet another falsehood slide.  
  
"How did he get an invitation in anyway? Mrs. Tanager's party was invitation only."  
  
This put Hailey in a tricky corner.  
  
'Oh yes Leslie!' she imagined herself saying; imagined the look on the girl's face. 'I invited Spot. He's a very good friend of mine. He kissed me as well! Fancy that!'  
  
Instead, being the good little girl of upbringing that she was forcing herself to be on that day, she plastered a look of disbelief on her face and said,  
  
"I heard he mugged one of the other guests and stole it from him!"  
  
Gasps of horrified delight circulated around the small group, as they all took up chairs on the parlor's dark pink furniture. The other girls - Susan, Abigail, Gentre, and Florence - were all on the edge of their seats listening to Hailey and Leslie gossip.  
  
It felt quite out of place, putting on the mask of gossip as she was, but in a way it dulled the pain. Spot never knew this side of her, therefore he could never hurt this side of her. That in itself was a very empowering thought, and though she knew she couldn't keep up this performance forever, it certainly was a way to escape reality for a while.  
  
"Yes," she continued, looking in total seriousness at Leslie, "though we still don't know who. Can you imagine? That poor soul."  
  
No matter how flippant and chattery she was going to be today, nothing would make her sympathize with Marcus. she'd never stoop that low.  
  
"Well now Leslie," Gentre spoke next, hands folded delicately in her lap. "Where did you say we were going to take Hailey today?"  
  
At the words "going to take Hailey" Leslie's ears perked right up. All traces of the worried look provoked by the made up story of the mugging were instantly replaced by a huge grin.  
  
"Yes! Well, I discussed it with the girls," she said, hands waving, "and we decided to take you down Main Street!" 'Shopping. Yippie. Let me go find a container for my joy.' Hailey thought, though kept her musings to herself.  
  
"Sounds lovely." She slid out. Leslie clasped her hands to her chest and bounced happily.  
  
"Its settled. Abigail dear, your father did say we could take his carriage did he not?" she asked. The brown haired mousy girl nodded shyly, and smiled when she was rewarded with Leslie's tender hand pressed briefly to her own in thanks. Hailey had been gone so long from this little clique that she'd entirely forgotten the fact that Leslie was revered as a Goddess among their friends.  
  
"Right then!" Leslie straightened up. "Let us get on with it!"  
  
The streets of Brooklyn were bursting with people. As Leslie and Florence walked ahead, gossiping about the new dress shop down on St. Martin's, she hung back with Abigail and took time to soak in everything. She'd always liked Abigail - she was a quiet girl who adored praise but took it modestly. Though her parents had extravagant amounts of money, she valued above all a good book: making her the perfect person to walk with. It was an unspoken truth between them that silence was to be valued and not squandered.  
  
People from all walks of life bustled around them, speeding about with their baskets and purses. All of her little group was stared at with hidden amazement. While she wore a vibrantly colored dress and walking cape, most of the people were dressed in dusty browns, grays and whites. Much to Hailey's horror, they even passed the occasional newsboy who shouted out the headlines.  
  
"Hailey darling,," Gentre came up beside her, "did you see the scarves over in that booth over there? You simply must come with me and check them out!"  
  
Conversations like these, full of "darlings" and "simplys" were the norm among this group, and though Hailey chose not to speak in such tongues, she found it hadn't annoyed her as much as it had before. So, drawing an excited smile across her face, she allowed Gentre to drag her through the throngs of traffic over to where a small little cart. As soon as the others noticed there was a shift in interest, they too flocked to where the vender stood.  
  
The man running the business was a lanky man with stringy hair and a dusty, beat up hat. His eyes gleamed at the site of their coin purses, and he removed the hat and bowed deeply as they approached.  
  
"Ladies," he drawled out, trying his best to sound regal. "If there is anything I can help you with, anything at all, please don't hesitate to ask."  
  
Susan, who despite her random moments of snobbery had always maintained a caring side, smiled politely and said, "Thank you."  
  
The scarves on the cart really were quite beautiful; and despite the lack of cleanliness of the vendor, the cart itself positively gleamed.  
  
"This would look quite lovely with your dress dear," Susan held up a little silver scarf to match the emerald of Hailey's dress.  
  
"Yes, or this one," Florence popped in with a cheerful red one. They were both so beautiful, such fine things Hailey wasn't used to buying (though she could afford it.) After a long moment of indesicion, she turned to Abigail and asked,  
  
"Which one do you like best?"  
  
Abigail looked almost startled for a moment, unused to the idea of people caring about her opinion. Then, with a sweet little smile towards Hailey, she pointed to the silver one and said,  
  
"That one will bring out the blue in your eyes."  
  
For the first time all day, Hailey was quite glad she got out of the house.  
  
~~~~~~  
  
(A/N= hello happy readers! Ireland was a total blast!! The guys over there are scortching (but none to rival Spot of course) I know it took me a looooonng time to update, but I wanted to make sure there was enough to write when I update. Heres an interesting fact for you. Did you know that only 40% (or so) of readers actually review a story? So could you all be really really nice and review? Cause I didn't get that many, and I've been gone for weeeeks! Shout out time (just cause I always feel special when I get a shoutout in a fanfic.)  
  
Jade Shintz - hey doll! You know what? I got two reviews in a bloody row from you! So thanks a million bazillion! Seriously, I love you to death now  
  
Chewy - Dontcha just love when Spot feels guilty? It makes me all warm and fuzzy inside. bwahahahaha!  
  
Kawaii Julie Sama - you mean, *sniff* that I can keep both the gorgeous guys? I actually hafta give one up?? *waaaaaa* okay fine. I give up Orlando Bloom. But you can't have Spot! He's miiiiinnneeee!!!! Hehe  
  
Melissa - gimme your email addy and I'll drop you a line. And I've been very lazy about cliffhangers. Must write some more soon. Hehe!  
  
Kay kay, love you all to death and pretty pretty please review! With spot on top?? Cause you love me? *puppy eyes* fanfics will slow considerably once school starts so you've been warned. Anywho, skittles! Oh and if anyone knows how to do italics on ff.n I'll give you a prize!!) 


	21. Unexpected Meetings

With Abigail by her side, she felt strong enough to put up with the mindless prattle constantly thrown at her by Leslie and the others.  
  
"I read Lauren Royal's Lily last week," Abagail spoke in that soft low tone of hers. "I thought Amethyst was her best work, but Lily was quite well written.'  
  
"Yes, I agree. Amethyst was my favorite as well. Amy was a very headstrong female character. Reminded me a lot of you actually,"  
  
She couldn't help adding that last part in. Abigail blushed, and fought to keep the impending smile off her face.  
  
"I don't know why I agree to go out with Leslie and her friends," Abigail admitted quietly so that none of the others could hear. " I'd much rather be at home with a book. Yet whenever I'm with them I get this feeling of popularity. Its just, they're so perfect." Hailey snorted a retort.  
  
"Trust me, they are far from perfect. In looks, yes, but in personality? They're lacking, trust me."  
  
Finally, a true friend. Just in time to hurdle the next big obstacle that was about to walk into her path. literally.  
  
"Oh my God, isn't that the boy from your party Hailey?" Gentre yanked at her arm, forcing her to stop. One perfectly manicured finger pointed over towards a group of people, where a familiar face was emerging. Hailey's heart dropped to her stomach. Why did she have to run into Spot?  
  
Blindly she clutched at Abigail's bony pale arm, unable to tear her eyes away from him. After last night, she swore she never wanted to see him again, and this afternoon was no acceptation. Running. That was her first thought, but the comforting hand Abigail put on her arm gave her the tiniest bit of strength to stay. He froze when he saw her too, clearly not expecting to see her gallivanting through the streets of Brooklyn. All the pain from the previous night came flooding back in one horrendous flood; hitting her so hard her legs nearly gave way beneath her. How could he be so cruel and yet still remain a god in her eyes? His hair was rumpled, as if he'd woken up.  
  
'Long night with Peaches no doubt,'  
  
It drifted through her mind before she had time to stop it. No matter how much loathing she held for the man, the thought of him with Peaches sent a rather sharp stab of jealousy through her. Everyone's eyes were trained on Spot, but he only looked at her. Those emerald rays gleamed with an inhuman radiance against the pale, sleep-deprived contours of his face.  
  
"Are you all right?" Abigail's voice slipped softly into her ear. That was the question wasn't it? And suddenly, for reasons that vanished, she knew the answer.  
  
Of all the luck, running into the one girl he'd never in a million years dreamed he'd see on the dusty streets during business hours. Yet she stood in front of him, surrounded by a group of high society girls, with a rather expensive silver scarf draped around her neck. Fragments of her image slid in and out of his broken dreams, but nothing was too coherent. When he first stepped out of the crowd of shoving people and saw her, standing out in her green dress amongst the dirt-stained drab of the commoners, he'd thought he was still dreaming.  
  
The curious and disgusted stares of her friends were the wake-up call to him that indeed he was awake. Dreams with her in it (which he wouldn't admit to the world he'd been having) usually had something to do with waltzing or candlelight. Niether of them were present, which was an even more disappointing reminder that the situation was about to become quite uncomfortable. As he saw it, he had two options. 1) he could simply pretend he never saw her and continue on his way or 2) he could go up and speak to her. Sure, he'd been an ass the previous night, but she'd forget over night, right?  
  
Wrong. Spot had decided on option number two, opting to speak incase she got the crazy notion that he was chickening out and running away. Spot Conlon wasn't a chicken, that's for damn sure. Crossing the dusty gap of empty space that distanced them, he turned his attention momentarily to the rest of the girls, plastering on his trademark smile. Sidekicks were always easier to take out, he'd learned that from a life on the streets, and the girls were no exception.  
  
"Aftahnoon ladies," he purred out, focusing on all the eyes except Hailey's. A few of the girls were stubborn, he obviously wouldn't reach all of them, but 2 of them quickly flushed and smiled, averting their eyes quickly.  
  
'Talented as evah, Spot Conlon scoahs again.' He silently congratulated himself on yet another victory. Feeling high on luck, he decided to approach the object of his dealings.  
  
"Hailey," his confidence wavered only slightly as he focused his gaze on her icy blue eyes. "Could I tawk ta ya foah a second?"  
  
Instead of flushing and reluctantly hobbling away from her friends as he'd expected her to do, she only straightened up and glared down at him.  
  
"I'm sorry Mr. Conlon, I don't believe I have anything worth discussing with you."  
  
One simple sentence and she instantly lost him his footing. One of the girls snickered, others hid amused smiles beneath gloved hands. The girl who held Hailey's arm wasn't so modest about her disapproval. Though timid in appearance, she glared at him with stony brown eyes. Later he would ponder over the girl and be reminded slightly of Slingshot. For now though, he was too busy watching in rapture as she and her friends hauntingly turned and pranced away. Several long minutes he stood there, staring at the spot where she had stood. Had she really just snubbed him? Though many had tried, no one quite succeeded in making him feel lower than dirt. In 14 little words, she accomplished the impossible. And it stung like hell.  
  
~~~~ (A.N~~ I'm alliiiiivvve! Geeze, I haven't updated since I got back from Ireland have i? I'm horribly horribley sorry! I deserve the harsh "f you" comment that I received from "Mr/Mrs Annonymous"!!!! is anyone still reading? I hope so! Cee Cee? Sarah Kate? You girls haven't left me have you? *bites nail nervously* well heres some more!) 


	22. Up the Trellis

"What's wrong?" Slingshot asked as he stormed through the small room to his bunk. Without so much as a hello, he swung up in one smooth motion and slammed himself down onto his bed. What's wrong? What kind of a stupid question was that? The great and all mighty Spot Conlon had been knocked off his high horse and shown a nice comfy place to squat down in the dirt, that's what was wrong! Not, of course, that he would admit that to anyone. If the fates were kind, no one had seen his little escapade on the street, and he could wake up tomorrow morning knowing his status was intact and his life was back to normal. That is, if he could even fall asleep.  
  
"Ya had a run in wit Hailey didn't ya?" she asked, coming to stand next to his unmoving form. Dragging his face up from his pillow, he stared at her with a mixture of angst and anger. His fears had come true, someone had seen.  
  
"No, no one told me," she read his thoughts. "Yoah just easy ta read. Now come on. Fess up. What's da deal wit you and dat scab anyway? Ya in love wid her or somethin?"  
  
Anger now sliced through his green eyes, but as always Slingshot remained unaffected. Knowing someone for a lifetime did have its advantages. Sighing deeply, he knew he wasn't going to win this fight. Hoping down with a cat- like grace from his bunk he landed on the creaking floor and grabbed her arm.  
  
"Come on." he growled. "We's gotta tawk."  
  
Slingshot almost had the gall to look amused at Spot's rare flash of angry confusion. From the top of the building, the nightlife of a decent share of Brooklyn spread out before them. A few drunkards stumbled towards doorways to collapse and sleep off the burn of alcohol. The night shift bull anxiously paced the grimy cobblestones, clearly either bored out of their mind and wishing feverently they were at home safe in their beds. Off far in the distance the flickering lights from lamps in the rich district glittered like faeries in the darkness.  
  
"So? What's da deal? Spill." She slumped down next to Spot, prodding his arm. He released a ragged sigh, and raked one hand through his hair.  
  
"Dere's something wrong wid me Slingshot." He admitted rather grumpily. "I'se don't know what da hell is wrong wid me! One minute I'se fine and da next." A long pause followed before he whispered his confession.  
  
"I can't get her out a my head"  
  
"Dere." She grinned at him. "Dat wasn't so bad, was it?" Her victorious smile was matched with his deadly glare.  
  
"So, what do I do? She's gonna marry dat scab Marcus Donavon. Not ta mention she proally hates me." He sighed. The entire time he ground out his confession, he was mentally beating himself up. How on Earth had he let the no good scab get under his skin? So much for the impenetrable "sleep-with-a- thousand-women-but-never-get-attached" Spot Conlon. Once the boys found out he was courting a scab, his reputation was shot. The insanity in his head wouldn't cease, the constant nagging that threatened to drive him over the edge. It all came in the form of Hailey Matthews' gentle eyes and soft smile.  
  
"Did ya try apologizing? Ya know women actually like dat?" she teased him.  
  
"Sling, you aint makin dis any easier." He retorted quickly, but his eyes were soft. "And anyway, how do ya tink I should do dat? Waltz into her posh little getup and soak the butler? Dere's no way ta get to her!" Slingshot looked at her best friend with serious eyes.  
  
"Spot, yoah da leadah of da Brooklyn newsies. Ya can get into anywheah. Why should some scab house be any different?" she asking temptingly. He just grinned. Damn he was glad he had her.  
  
Spot knew the streets of Brooklyn like the back of his hand, he could run them hogtied and blindfolded. It was a damn good thing too, because he needed every last bit of stealth to accomplish the mission set before him. God forbid if he was caught, he couldn't soak the competition and run free - he'd be sent to the clink. Or worse. the boys home. Her house looked as it always had, quiet but still alive with motion. His mode of operations would be simple. Scale the trellis, open the window, wait enter her room. Well, it was the room he assumed was hers. If it wasn't he was liable to be in custody in the morning. It was a risk he was willing to take though. Taking a quick glance around the grounds to make sure no one was watching, he put one foot on the white wood and started to climb.  
  
Lucky for him the bedroom window was unlocked. Breaking her property wouldn't put him very high on her list. Upon glancing in the slightly fogged glass, his suspicions were confirmed. It in fact was her room - the four poster bed with teddy bears arranged nicely on the pillows gave it away. Even better, the room was empty. His plan worked!  
  
'Brooklyn, one - scabs, zero!' he silently congratulated himself.  
  
Without a sound he landed on the rug-covered floor beneath the bay window. On second glance of her room, he was astonished. It was as big as the sleeping quarters of the lodging house! Her bed alone could fit at least 5 people.. What got him was the fire crackling in the hearth. All those long winter nights when he hovered beneath his threadbare blanket and damned the cold that bit at his skin, and she had her own personal fire place? Society was just twisted!  
  
His thoughts were quickly interrupted by the sound of footsteps in the hallway. His instincts kicked in, and he slipped behind the red velvet curtains just as the door creaked open.  
  
"Yes mother, thank you mother," Hailey sounded tired as she walked into her room. Weary, worn out. Barely breathing, Spot peered out from where he hid to look at her. Still in the outfit he'd seen her in earlier, she looked as beautiful as ever, but there was something in the way she held herself that lacked. The confidence and flair that once captivated him had left.  
  
"Louisa." She spoke into the silence. "You forgot to close the window."  
  
'Who da hell is Louisa?' he thought. Then it dawned on him that he forgot to close the window when he entered. Her quiet footsteps drew nearer and nearer, and the slightest hints of panic touched his mind. Then it clicked.  
  
~~~  
  
here's more! See? This is me trying to update so that people will read my story again. Is it working? *looks cute and fluffy* oh, and I have a favor to ask. If someone will email me and tell me how to get italics and all that to work.. i hit the browse button when it says "upload story" and go into my documents and all that, and I have windows 2000 or whatever it is you need, but it doesn't work! So if someone would walk me step by step through that. I would love you forever! Kay kay? Presentation in APUSH tomorrow. wish me luck! Tah for now. I'll try and update soon! (And eva, you'd better come to sadies on Friday!) 


	23. Another Note from Mika

Dearly beloved. We are gathered here today to say goodbye to the 21 plus pages of Newsie fanfic that once sat on my hard drive. Except now it doesn't because the stupid geek squad erased MY ENTIRE HARD DRIVE!!!!

But guess what else?

_I'm writing in italics!!_

**I'm writing in bold!__**

****

And you know why? Because jade shintz is a goddess and taught me how to do this! All bow down to her greatness! So it will be a while before I'm able to post again seeing as everything is GONE!!!!!! I apologize, and will duck if anyone feels the need to throw vegetables. But I'm working on replacing all that is lost (and I was _thisclose to posting too!) and I'm really sorry and um… yeah. So tah!_


	24. Burgundy Romance

Snaking out one calloused hand, he clamped it quickly over her mouth; effectively stopping the scream that formed in the back of her throat. Instantly, Hailey began to thrash around, her arms flailing desperately to escape his grasp, but he was a mite bit stronger than her, and had her trapped.

"Shhh…" he hissed into her ear, "It's me." 

At the sound of Spot's voice, she stopped fighting. The fingers that gripped her mouth loosened, and she whirled around to face him. A mixture of panic and surprise danced across her face as she took a few steps backwards and stared at him. 

"Spot! What are you doing here?" the words tumbled from her lips. "Are you crazy? What if someone caught you?"

"I don't care," he interjected softly, but in her rants she didn't hear him.

"How did you even get up here? You know there are guards patrolling the streets at night? And if my parents found you…"

"Hailey." He said her name forcefully, and it resounded through the expanse of her room. Instantly she stopped talking. "I don't care if anyone finds me heah.. I hads ta talk ta ya." 

Confusion flickered in her eyes. After the wonderful display he'd put on earlier, he was the last person she ever wanted to see, yet the sincerity reflected in his voice made her desperately want to believe he meant it. Shaking her head violently to clear it, she quickly shut the burgundy drapes to prevent any watchmen or street prowlers from catching him. 

"Well," she forced a icy chill into her voice to block the sudden nervousness that erupted, "talk then." 

            Spot sighed deeply, plowing a hand through his sandy locks. 

_'So she aint gonna fo'get what happened earlier. I can do dis!'_ he cemented this mentality into his mind. _'I aint leavin' till I'se said what I'se said.'_  

Instead of instantly pouring his heart out, he decided on the calm and collect approach. 

"Dis a nice place ya gots heah." He told her, glancing around at the plush pillows and huge leather chairs. Hailey just rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest in annoyance.

"Spot, we both know you didn't come here to discuss the decorum of my bedroom," she stated flatly, "so go ahead and say what you want to say so I can get some sleep."  He matched her stare with slight anger, then it bubbled away into a smirk. 

"Yoah beautiful."

            Well that statement sure threw Hailey off. It was the last thing she expected to hear from him. A rant about earlier, or insults about being upper class maybe, but not this. The smirk on his face never left as he continued to speak, slowly growing closer to her.

"I can't get ya out a mah head. Dis aint too good foah my reputation none eithah." A blazing emerald fire danced in his eyes as he spoke, and the intensity of it unnerved her. "So Ise tawked tah Slingshot 'bout it. She says I's need tah do sometin bouts dis little problem."  

Her heart was beating so loudly she was sure he could hear it. The air around them crackled with heat, chilling her skin and setting her mind on fire. 

"And?" she spoke with every last bit of nerve she could muster, but there was still a slight tremble in her voice. Her attempt at courage only made his trademark smirk bigger. He was close to her now, so close she could feel the warmth of his breath on her cheek. 

"I'se doin' sometin bouts it." He grinned. Quickly, before she had time to react, he trapped her face in his hands, and kissed her. Hailey's world tilted. All the oxygen vanished from her lungs, and whatever strength she had left disappeared. White hot lightening speared through her veins, starting where his lips assaulted hers and shooting out through the tips of her toes. She just melted into him, unable to think properly while the delicious onslaught persisted. 

            Spot drank her in like oxygen. The "cinnamon-and-roses" lusciousness of her lips wrapped itself around his brain until it became addictive as a drug, driving him mad. He became numb to everything accept her, and that anesthetized freedom entered him that was only achieved by excessive amounts of whiskey. The chill of the night air that had previously clung to his skin evaporated; replaced by the heat of skin under his fingers as he skimmed her face and neck, and the exposed silkiness of her shoulders.  A small moan of loss escaped her when he finally pulled back to stare at the masterpiece he created. Truly beautiful. He looked at Hailey with gentle appreciation, running his thumb over her swollen lips, slightly parted to gasp air she desperately needed. Her sapphire eyes were clouded with surprise and passion, torpidly searching his own for answers. Before she could ask him any question, to which he had no answers, he drew her forward and kissed her again, but softer this time. He lightly nipped at her bottom lip, soothing away any pain with his tongue; lavishly adoring the tenderness.  

            A door slammed down the hallway, making both jump apart. Hailey's gaze darted fearfully to her own shut down, then back at Spot, who was now smiling down at her. Even his smile made her go weak! Kissing her lightly on the tip of her nose, he whispered out, "I'm sorry."  

Then, without so much as a goodbye, he turned and pushed back the burgundy curtains. As the frigid night air nipped at her skin, she pulled out his key from beneath her dress where it hung on a little silver chain. Twisting it around and around in her fingertips, Hailey stared out the his invisible tracks in the night. 

~~~

(A/N = haha! I wont let the stupid computer virus get the best of me! Bwahahaha! So yes, they kissed. All happy and special and jazz. But did anyone notice he never actually said "I love you"? and neither did she!!! That's for all you finale shippers out there. J so I beat the evil geek squad and wrote more. Thanks again Jade! You rock! Did I ever tell you this? Cause guess what? You do! So please review! And happy Haunikah, Yule and Christmas to everyone!)


	25. Ferret and Cronies

The next afternoon Spot and Slingshot walked side by side down the crowded streets, selling their newspapers left and right. She pulled her innocent little girl act, which practically had the buyers eating out of her hands, and Spot was a pro at pressure. Together, they were the perfect tag-team. 

"I take it tings went well wid Hailey?" she asked after smiling politely at a large woman who'd bought a paper, "Ya've been practically glowin evah since we stahted out." 

It was true too. He felt his usual bad ass smug, but under that a deep satisfaction. He'd made things right with Hailey, and though she still lingered on the edge of his mind, constantly bringing his thoughts back to her, she no longer tormented him mercilessly. 

"Yeah, deys okay now." He said with a mysterious grin. Okay, meaning he'd kissed her until his head spun, and he was still drunk from the sweetness of it. Slingshot wouldn't be interesting in things like that though, only making sure Hailey was all right emotionally.  The street was clouded with dust kicked up from too many patrons. Women in billowing dresses adorned with lace and silk paraded around from shop cart to shop cart, throwing careless glances in the direction of the items before moving hastily on to the next one. Every few minutes they'd stop and carefully examine an item; looking it over, scrutinizing it with a fine eye. If what they found was satisfactory to their unquenchable lust, then they'd reach their soft hands inside their purses and draw out a few coins. The cart owner went home happy. If they were disappointed, they'd turn one stern beady eye on the bedraggled man who was selling goods, and walk away with a sniff. Spot would more often than not find lovely ways of making sure some of the contents of those purses ended up in his pockets. It wasn't stealing, oh no, it was survival. Why did those women need a few extra coins when they could sell a single dress and make more than he'd make in a year? 

            "Spot?" his best friend's voice sounded slightly worried as she touched his shoulder to stop him, "do ya know dem scabs?" 

Her pale hand gestured forward to three boys – one of them skinny and ferret-like and the other two big and muscley (but by the looks of them, dumb as rocks.) The two brawny ones he'd never seen before, but the ferret… Then it struck him.

Marcus Donovan. Hailey's fiancée. 

A little smirk turned at the corners of Spot's mouth. He hadn't seen the pathetic excuse for a human since he'd most likely broken his nose at Hailey's party. Judging by the little black bruise on that pale face, he'd done an excellent job. 

"Yeah," he murmured back as they neared, "I'se met 'em." 

            "Aftahnoon gentlemen," he touched the rim of his floppy newsboy cap, "what can Ise do foah ya?"  Annoyance, disgust, and anger smoldered in Marcus's eyes. 

"You can stay the hell away from my fiancée!" he spat out. The two buffoons at his side crossed their big arms over their broad chests and looked sternly at Spot. He wasn't in the slightest bit phased however, he just kept his gaze locked on their leader.

"I don't know what yoah talkin' about,"he said with a grin that clearly spoke otherwise. 

"Keep your tongue behind your teeth you damned street trash," Marcus threw insults well enough, though Spot knew from experience he hardly had the build to back them up. That's what the cronies were for. "Keep your grimy hands off of Hailey or I'll make sure they never touch anything again. Hear me boy?"  Then a grin split his face, and he turned his stony gaze to Slingshot, "Or perhaps me and your little girlfriend here could have some fun."  One of his long pampered fingers reached out to touch Slingshot's face, but she quickly tried to bite it off, her jaws snapping shut just nanoseconds after his finger was hastily pulled away. Spot chuckled as her expression hardened to steel. Good old Slingshot, never was one to take crap from the opposite sex – especially scabs. 

"Well if youse don't need anytin' else, pahaps I'll go on my way." He tipped his hat and began to walk away. 

"This isn't over!" the impatient boy screeched out behind him. "Leave her alone or I'll kill you!"  Like all the other threats that were thrown his way, Spot brushed it off with indifference. He was the most powerful newsie in all of New York, his life was threatened all the time. Because of this, he knew how to defend himself as well. A laugh erupted from his throat when Slingshot turned around and blew the 3 scabs a kiss. The wind through his hair felt marvelous as he and his best friend continued on with their day. In the bliss of happiness, he didn't notice the blackened storm clouds that grew on the outskirts of destiny…

~~~

(A/N= did I ever tell yall that I love xmas break? Cause yeah… I do. It's the best thing ever. Seriously. Its friggin great. This chapter goes out to Rose. *waves enthusiastically* hi Rose! See? I'm writing your name! yay! *throws confetti* have a happy Christmas or Yule or whatever other holidays you guys celebrate. Love ya!)


	26. Cold Blooded Revenge

Knife was a pretty girl, that much was true, with golden hair and brown eyes that looked like chocolate melting in the sun. Her name held true to her personality, she was a distracting thing that could cut to the bone when she was angry. Spot had always held her in fond regard, mostly because she was a pretty thing to look at, but also because she had a good head on her shoulders. Most newsie girls were nothing but mindless frilly dolls who flirt with old men in exchange for papers, or do favors for a couple extra bucks. Just like Peaches, gorgeous but not too much drive in life. Knife had a place for herself among her fellow female newsies. She did have one flaw however, and that was her insatiable obsession with him. 

"Come on Spot," she draped her thin arms around his shoulders as they and a few other newsies sat down on Hazel Pier after work a week later, "you know I could be the best you've had." 

He cocked one eyebrow at her and carefully extracted himself from her embrace. Though she was one of the lower class, her English was a hell of a lot better than the rest of them, and in her low sexy tone, it brought his thoughts dangerously close to a subject he was trying to forget about.  That unfortunate run-in with Marcus Donovan and his weasels was amusing at the time, but left him with an unshakable feeling of dread for the rest of the week.

 The evil sniveling excuse for a boy clearly had no feelings for Hailey whatsoever. Lust, now there was a different story. Lust was an obvious emotion that any man in his right state of mind would conjure up when staring at the illustrious Hailey Matthews. But love? That was a tricky one. One that Marcus Donavan clearly didn't possess, most likely about anything at all.

_Accept maybe money,_ he added silently. 

            Knife was showing no signs of giving up her pursuit, and leaned in even closer to him, giving him a clear view down her loose-fitting blouse. 

"Are you sure Spot?" she purred in his ear. "You and me would be real good together." 

Slingshot, who was leaning against a pole and laughing with some of the guys, let out a very unlady-like snort and shook her head.

"Ya know Spot'll nevah give in to ya Knife. Why do ya even try?"  Knife tossed a lock of blonde hair behind her head and gave an indignant sniff. Spot just laughed, took her face in his hands, and planted a quick kiss on her lips. It meant nothing to him, but judging by the star-struck beam on her face, she was ecstatic. 

_Good, let her get good on dat,_ he thought. 

"Well boys," he took a deep breath and shoved himself off the ground, "time ta get back ta work!" Groans rose up from where the boys sat, lounging in the afternoon sun. 

"Get up ya slackers!" Slingshot shouted gruffly, and instantly they started to move. If there was one person in all of Brooklyn the newsies feared almost as much as Spot, it was Slingshot. The petite girl rested one small, callused hand on one of the wooden poles and waited for her best friend to ready himself. Spot adjusted his cane and ceremoniously slapped his cap on his head, then grinned. Slingshot just rolled her eyes.

"I'se gonna take Knife and make da rounds," she told him, squinting her eyes against the sun. "We'll take Baker tah McMannan." Knife let out a high pitched shriek of annoyance before dragging herself to her feet and dusting off the blue material of her skirt. It was sad to think that her silky blonde hair would be rumpled by the end of the day; and to a well-versed seducer of women, Spot had seen the best and worst of working women. She was a hard worker though, always struggling to keep up with Slingshot, and underneath the porcelain skin and coy smiles was her hard-as-nails personality which wouldn't allow her to quit. 

"Aftah work," he slid an arm around her waist and squeezed her hip briefly in suggestion, "You an me'll tawk." Any disappointment at having to work was immediately erased from her face, and was quickly replaced with giddy joy. Slingshot sent him a glare, to which he only responded with a chuckle.

"See ya tonight Sling," he ruffled her hair playfully. Then, without so much as a grunt from the weight, he picked up his stack of papers and headed off in the opposite direction towards Kensington. Little did he know that, for one mousy girl, the later they all longed for would not come.

~*~      

By the time Beans collapsed on the dirty cement step of the Brooklyn newsboy lodging house – breathless with his cheeks stained with tears – most of the boys had already returned home. It wasn't uncommon for Slingshot to run late, she worked until she'd sold her goal of papers and then came home. What was, however, was the scrawny boy stumbling into the bunk house; so choked up he could hardly speak a word. And he wasn't even from Brooklyn. Immediately all the boys rose up, hackles up at the sight of an intruder, and lively conversation ceased. Not until the little nine year old removed his tattered cap, wiped his eyes with a filthy sleeve, and looked directly at their leader did anyone figure out something was seriously wrong. 

"I cames straight away…" Beans choked out, "dey just found 'er…" 

            All the blood instantly drained from Spot's face. The cigar that had rested between his lips now fell to his lap unnoticed. _Dey_ just found 'er._ Those four words echoed through his brain, squeezing around every molecule in his being until he could breathe. _

"Down in a alley on 42nd…" the small boy continued, "Dey says Knife's okay. But Sling…" After the long moment of hardened silence that followed his first announcement, a flurry of murmurs rose up from the boys. Disbelief was the shared emotion in the room, as well as an overwhelming shock. Too lost in tears to say anymore, Beans simply sniffed loudly, and was quickly ushered onto a bed by one of the other boys where he promptly began crying into one of the lumpy pillows.

 Slingshot was dead.

He ran faster than he'd ever run before. Tearing down nameless streets, he could make out the faces of friends in the blur. Every last one of them stared at him with a look of sorrow. No! It wasn't what he wanted to see. She wasn't dead, she couldn't be dead. And when he finally turned the corner into the alleyway – already crowded with boys – he had almost convinced himself of this fact. Until he saw the unmoving form of his best friend sprawled across the cobblestones, then every thought disappeared from his mind. 

The low speculative whispers that the boys surrounding her made instantly ceased as he tore through them and stood above her body. It was a blow to the head, he could tell instantly. A deep red gash split open her forehead, matting her brown hair and pale face with blood. Thin slender fingers were curled up into fists at her sides: fighting till the end, that was her. 

"Dis was next tah 'er," an unfamiliar boy stepped forward and held out a small slip of paper. With trembling fingers, Spot took the paper and unfolded it. It neat but hastily scratched handwriting were the words

**_I told you to leave her alone. _**

**_Did you listen?_**

**_No you did not._**

Three simple lines was all it had, but those three lines made his blood boil and turned everything around him into a hazy red blur. In an instant, he knew who did it. He knew who killed his best friend, and damned if he was going to sit by and watch the filthy scab go unpunished. Bending down, Spot tugged on the small string that held a little silver locket in place around Slingshot's neck. It came undone easily, and he fingered it gently, pushing at one side of the metal to make it open. Inside was two braided locks of hair, his and hers, that they'd cut and twisted when they were little to ensure they'd never be apart. Every boy in the alley backed up to get as far away from their leader as possible. He wasn't screaming, crying, or showing any sort of emotion. He simply stood there, with the locket tied around his neck, staring stone-faced at the body of his dead friend. Then, not one word uttered, he spun on his heels and dashed off into the night. There was only one thing on his mind, and it could be summed up in two words: Kill Marcus. 

~~~

(A/N = *huge sob* I know! I killed Slingshot! (did I base her on anyone? If I did, I really don't hate you so please don't take offense) but she needed to go. I love her too. Let us all take a moment to pray for our dear friend slingshit…. *long moment of silence* and now, if your not all mad at me for killing her, be good little readers and REVIEW!!)


	27. Cold Hands of the Night

The clock ticked one more horrendously slow second away, and Hailey shifted slightly on the fainting couch. There was only one thing in the world worse than sitting in the same room with Marcus – sitting in a room with Marcus and the rest of his family_._ Mrs. Donovan and her own mother were discussing tea cakes and social news quietly to themselves, letting his older sister Edwina join in every few moments. The two fathers were standing in a corner with glasses of whiskey in their hands, grumbling over a slight drop in the stock market and the price of exports. This left Hailey sitting all by herself with a cup of tea in hand, trying very hard to ignore the suggestive glances that Marcus kept giving her. 

_You'd think with his own mother in the room!_ She thought, taking a sip of tea. _If he gives me one more eyebrow wiggle I swear I'll pop him one so hard…_

"Oh the wedding will be just lovely!" Mrs. Donovan sighed wistfully, and Hailey nearly choked on the hot liquid. 

"Mother, the wedding is not for two more years, surely you aren't planning ahead already…?" she let the question trail off. The elated smile on her mother's face answered the question better than any words could have. Though a wave of dread and disgust washed through her, Hailey did her best to keep her face completely neutral. Marcus, on the other hand, was smirking up a storm. Everyone in his entire family had practically memorized the lay out for the wedding: roses and white champagne, Mrs. Matthews' wedding dress, a hue of blue for the groom, and no less that 135 guests. It was positively nauseating. The fact that her unfortunate excuse for a fiancée could do nothing but gloat over the fact did nothing to alleviate the situation. Reaching up and brushing a single strand of hair out of her eyes, Hailey turned to her mother once more and stated,

"I think I need some air. I believe I'll step outside for a moment." 

Both of the older women nodded, and Edwina judged her from behind the gold painted rim of her china teacup. Edwina and her younger brother had quite a lot in common. Both were thin as a rail with high noses and beady eyes. They both possessed a sharp chin and a look of scornful disdain that they cast at practically anything that moved in a way that suggested even the slightest decrease in social status. Taking not a moment more to ponder on the two hideous lumps of human flesh, Hailey set her cup and saucer down on mahogany table, rose up, and quickly exited the room.  

              The instant the night air touched her bare arms, she felt instantly less queasy. Perhaps it was the poor attempt at bedroom eyes that Marcus was trying to give her, or the way Edwina insisted on slurping her tea instead of sipping it. Quite possibly it could have been the overabundance of perfumes that Mrs. Donovan drown herself in before arriving. Hailey knew however that it was the endless talk of marriage that had her stomach churning. Already she could see the biting chains of matrimony binding her to domesticity and silence.  When the words "I do" pass through her lips, she would be eternally trapped in her own personal hell on Earth.  Two years would pass quickly in the chaos of dress fittings, party planning, invitation-making, and silent crying. What was left of her childhood had been destroyed the instant their wedding had been arranged, and she now faced the long years of maturity no glimmer of hope. 

            All of these things assaulted her mind as she pressed her body against the cold black metal of the fence that surrounded her yard. Not the nip of the air or the pain from the unsteady walk across the yard broke through her internal turmoil. 

"Looking for a chance for us to be alone?" a wry voice spoke behind her. Instantly her heart dropped into her stomach. 

_No! No no no!_ she squeezed her eyes shut as she slowly turned around. Marcus stood a few feet away with a wide grin on his face. His olive complexion was deathly pale in the light reflecting from the street lamps. It was absolutely amazing how a boy of such little muscle could make her feel the amazing fear he did, when one of the strongest people in Brooklyn gave her the greatest sense of comfort she'd ever known. 

"I don't know what you mean," Hailey attempted to play innocence. There was enough of a warning in her voice so that he didn't confuse it with a masked invitation. He chuckled and stepped closer to her however, clearly ignoring what he'd obviously noticed. 

"Don't play coy with me Hailey. We're to be married you know, there's no reason why we can't have a little bit of fun while we wait." he drew closer, attempting to pin her between himself and the bars. Instantly thoughts of Spot and the alleyway came flooding back. Would all kisses make her feel like she was burning up inside? Certainly not Marcus's, if the little pecks on the cheek she'd received were any indication. Deftly, she slipped out of the trap he had set and moved towards the door. 

"We're not married yet Marcus," she reminded him, "and I expect you to keep your distance. It would only be proper…"

He caught her arm in an iron grip, his long bony fingers digging painfully into the skin of her arm. Despite her attempts to keep he face neutral, a wince flashed briefly across it as she hissed out in pain. One look at his nearly black eyes and she knew she'd said the wrong thing.

"Don't give me this properness bullshit," he spat out quietly, "you're to be my wife. I expect you to start acting like it."  Then without a single word of warning, he yanked her forward and mashed his lips against hers. A little yip of pain escaped her, which he mistook as a moan of pleasure. In the next instant his fingers had her hair firmly in their grasp and he held her head still as he forced the kiss deeper. She nearly gagged as she felt a wet tongue trace at the creased line of her lips. Frantically she clawed at him, trying her hardest to shove him away, but he only pulled at her hair more – increasing the pain. 

            All at once it stopped. The grip on her head loosened, and his lips left hers, now pursed in a little "O" of surprise. Hailey opened her eyes to stare at the cause of her salvation, and saw none other than her very own knight in shining armor. Or rather, her knight in tattered rags. Spot Conlon had Marcus by the back of the shirt; and, without even blinking, threw him hard against the fence. She started to smile at him, half expecting his next move to involve taking her into his arms and kissing her pain away. When he finally locked eyes with her, she saw that wasn't the case at all. Judging by the inferno of flames writhing in his shocking green eyes, something was wrong with him – seriously wrong. Marcus cried out in pain as he crumpled to the grass.

"Spot, what…" Hailey started, reaching out to put a hand on Spot's shoulder, but he was already after Marcus again. Reaching down one hand, he easily dragged Marcus back up to his feet, only to punch him in the face and send him down again.  

"You sonuvabitch!" he cursed loudly, kicking the boy in the side. 

"Stop it!" Hailey cried out, looking down at Marcus's writhing form with concert. "Spot, you're going to kill him!" But it was clear he didn't even hear her. Even the way he stood reflected his fury. Something set loose the demon within Spot Conlon, something much bigger than concern for her; and now that it was free, there was no way to stop it. Hailey knew she was defenseless. Scream for help, and Spot would most likely be killed on sight. No one cared about the life of a newsie, even if he was the one who brought her back from the brink of death.  There was no way she could try and forcibly stop him, that would only result in herself getting hurt as well. 

            "You killed her you fucking bastard," Spot's voice dropped low as he knelt to the ground and pounded away at Marcus. Hailey wasn't even sure Marcus was conscious anymore. The screams of pain had ceased, replaced by the occasional whimper between blows. 

_Dead?__ What is he talking about? Whose…_

And then all at once the truth clicked into place. Slingshot. Slingshot must be dead. One small hand flew to her mouth as the tears started to well up in her eyes.

"Slingshot…" she murmured out, looking past the two boys into the blankness of oblivion. No! It couldn't be true! Marcus was mean, but… murder? Slingshot was a girl who could clearly take care of herself, Marcus wouldn't stand a chance against her! But there were those friends of his that were always hanging around the house…

"No." Hailey sobbed out, staring blankly at the ground. "She was so young…" Vaguely she felt Spot's gaze turn to her, but she was too lost to recognize it. Unbidden, images of the girl rushed back. Standing in her threadbare skirt and man's shirt, she would have looked frail at first glance but there was a stubborn determination that gleamed beneath her surface. Hailey recognized it immediately; it was something she was constantly searching for it the women around her, but rarely ever found. "She's dead." The word seemed so foreign on her tongue, it seemed an impossibility. That blazing rage in Spot's eyes confirmed her truth however. Marcus was most likely dead as well by this point, he was no longer even flinching under the heavy strikes. 

            "Hey! You there!" Mr. Matthews called loudly from the front door. Behind him, the sounds of female screaming ensued, and Hailey knew everyone inside was now alert to the fact that Spot had just turned Marcus into lawn salsa. Though her eyes were clogged with tears, she managed to watch how the scene played out. Hearing the shouts, Spot pulled away from his victim and looked up just in time to see the barrel of Mr. Matthews' being aimed at his head. In a flash he was up on his feet, and had scrambled up and over the fence just as the first shot rang out. There was a loud thump as Mrs. Donovan fainted dead away at the sight of her son's still form, and the smoke from the gun cleared around Mr. Matthews' face. 

            Edwina rushed outside, her stubby ankles cracking as she threw herself onto her brother's body. Hailey looked up, still partly trapped in the haze that had caught her, and forced herself to look at her fiancée. His face was hardly recognizable through the blood and bruises. The black of his shirt jacket was torn where he'd hit the fence, and there was some blood seeping through his side where Spot had kicked him several times. For a moment, a little bit of hope seeped into Hailey. Perhaps Marcus was dead. Maybe she wouldn't have to marry the git after all. Then her father, after extracting Edwina, reached down and touched his neck, and pronounced,

"He's alive." 

"Oh thank the Heavens." Mrs. Matthews put one hand to her breast and sighed in relief. In all the commotion, poor Mrs. Donovan was left sprawled in the entry way. 

"Come, help me with him Charles." Mr. Matthews commanded of the boy's father, then turned to his wife. "Darling, go inside and phone the doctor." Hailey sobbed once more and pressed a cool hand to her forehead. No, the weasel was still living. Badly bruised, possibly disfigured, but still alive, and she would still be forced to marry him. Worse, the one boy who took away all thoughts of Marcus would be hunted down for what he did. Judging by the way Spot lived, it was unlikely they would actually catch him. No one but she and Marcus actually knew it was Spot who attacked him anyway, and she could just as easily lie about it. With a little bit of luck Marcus wouldn't remember a thing, and she could get Spot off scotch free. It was clear by the disgusted anger in his eyes that they were finished, and it made her heart ache. Whatever he may have felt for her, if he felt anything at all, was now gone. As dead as his best friend now rotting in the ground. 

"You poor dear," Edwina, for the first time in her life, showed genuine concern for Hailey, "are you all right? Did he hurt you too? Come now, lets get you inside." Barely registering her words, Hailey looked up at the girl, past her, into the night sky, and weakly nodded her head. Cold fingers slipped around her arm, helping her up as she hobbled back towards the warmth of her house. 

~~~~

a/n – horray for the happy updation! (is that even a word? Meh, it is now!!) I sat down and wrote it all in a big schnaa, so if it sucks feel free to throw rotten vegetables. If you liked it, Spot jumping out of an edible chocolate food item would be greatly appreciated! And in parting I'll give you these words of discomfort:: it has begun. evil grin!


	28. The Death of Innocence

Day after day slipped by in a gray blur, until they turned into weeks. Life for Hailey returned to its usual dreary but normal state, as it was before she met Spot Conlon. Days of shopping with her friends, a many multitude of parties to attend, and evenings at dinner with the Donovan's. Despite her ferverent praying, Marcus did in fact recover from his encounter with Spot; though he sported a hideously large scar on his forehead from where Spot had slammed him against the fence. Several of his ribs had been broken, and he'd been bedridden for the better part of a month. Unfortunately he was up on his feet again, and all the more ready to torment his bride-to-be. 

"You will make a wonderful addition to the family, Hailey dear," Mrs. Donovan raised her glass at supper one evening. At the words "addition to the family," Hailey nearly choked on her beef. It was so much more like a prison, now that she had no reason to hope that one day she'd escape. There hadn't been a single whisper of Spot since he took off down the darkened street all those countless hours ago. Still, whenever she heard the harsh cry of a newsie calling out the headlines, she couldn't help but feel the tiniest flutter of excitement. 

"Might we possibly move the wedding date closer mother?" Marcus pleaded, as he rather rudely shoved another piece of beef into his mouth. "We're good friends with the mayor. Isn't it possible to get a special court agreement?" 

Having said this, he raised one eyebrow suggestively at Hailey. An evocative grin split his face, revealing bits of vegetables stuck in his teeth. She said nothing, but quickly looked at her plate. 

_How dare he be so blatantly rude, and yet my parents don't do anything? Not even Spot was this bad…_

As had always happened, a little pang of shame and sorrow shot straight into her heart at the thought of him. Annoyed at herself and at him, she sulkily pushed around the meat on her plate so it mixed with the potatoes. Perhaps if the food was moved, her parents would actually believe her when she said she'd eaten something… 

"As much as I'm sure we'd all love an early marriage-" this was followed by simulatious nodded (save for Hailey) "- even your uncle Pulitzer can't do anything like that. And we all know he practically created this city!" Polite chuckles followed this, and Hailey stabbed at her dead cow even harder. "But I'm sorry dear. You'll just have to wait two more years." 

            _Focus your mind on anything but him._ She forced herself as the dessert was brought in, and quite surprisingly, she wasn't thinking about Spot. It was Marcus now that plagued her thoughts. Every opportunity he got, he reminded her of their wedding night. He was practically counting the days, and made a point to whisper blatant innuendoes in her ear in passing. Letters arrived, masked as sonnets, but they spoke of the pleasures of the bedroom in vivid – and to her disgustingly horrifying – detail. She'd read enough romance novels to realize that what a man and a woman can do behind their bedroom doors could be pure ecstasy, but she knew already things such as that would not be felt with Marcus. Oh sure, he was experienced – she'd heard enough of the gossip from her friends to know he'd had his fair share of sexual encounters. He was a man, however, and by some freak of society, was aloud to do such things as long as it wasn't flaunted to the public. She had no idea why anyone in their right mind would want to have a roll between the sheets with such a hideous specimen of human flesh, but apparently her opinion wasn't shared by a lot of Manhattan's young ladies. 

            A loud knock on the door startled everyone at dinner, and made Hailey stop with her wineglass half way to her lips. Their butler hadn't even opened the door yet, and already she knew the news was bad. Call it instinct, psychic abilities, or just plain lucky guessing, but whatever Jeeves had to say, it wasn't going to have a pleasant impact on the next few minutes. Slowly she lowered her glass to the table as the old man pushed open the large doors, and stepped inside the dining room with a quick bow and a silver tray in his hand. It was a letter resting on the tray, she knew instantly, and her heart dropped to her stomach when he locked eyes with her. There was a sadness there, an almost pitiful look, and it was clear he knew the letter's contents.

"A letter for Ms. Hailey ma'am. Begging your pardon for interrupting dinner, but they said it was urgent." He said, hovering at the door. Mr. Matthews nodded briskly, and Jeeves tottered forward, and handed Hailey the now-opened letter. It was from Abigail's parents, she noted with instant concern, and immediately flipped the letter over to read it. The contents were short, scribbled quickly and stained with tears.

**Ms. Matthews – **

**You've been a good friend to our dear Abigail, one of the few she's had in her life time. Yet death's cold hand is reaching for her. The doctor says she probably won't live through the night. I'm sorry to interrupt your evening, but Abigail is asking for you. We've a coach waiting to take you to our house. Please come, as a last request for our daughter.**

**Our deepest thanks,**

**Mrs. **

The fork that held her bite of chocolate cake clanged to the table, sending the cake flying across the table to land ever so ungraciously in Marcus's lap.  He snorted disconcertingly, but was largely ignored by the rest of the table who all sat staring transfixed at Hailey. 

"What's the matter dear?" Mrs. Matthews asked, "You're as white as a ghost!"  With shaky fingers, Hailey folded up the letter. 

"It's Abigail ---. One of my frineds, you remember her mother. She's… ill. Very ill. Her mother says she won't make it through the night. I must go and visit her. They've sent a carriage to take me…!" Towards the end, all of her words spilled out in one rushed jumble, accentuated by the tears that were now streaming down her cheeks. Even Marcus looked concerned. 

"Calm down child. Tell me slowly now." Her mother touched her hair gently. Hailey took a deep breath to steady herself, but found it impossible.

"Abigail is dying mother. I must go see her. Now! They have a carriage waiting to take me…" she gestured helplessly outside the windows. Sure enough, there was a lavish coach with the --- family crest posted outside their gate. With one look at it, and a brief nod, Mrs. Matthews had something she'd never had before a day in her life. A moment of compassion and true understanding. 

"Yes of course dear," she nodded, and rose up. "Jeeves! Get my daughter's things, she'll be going out!" Another sob tore from Hailey's throat as she looked at her mother with gratitude. The others at the table looked slightly concerned, but more confused, as Hailey quickly shoved herself away from the table and tore off into the entry. 

            The ride there was bumpy and uncomfortable, touched with the chill of evening. The couch they provided was one of the grandest she'd seen, that wasn't the problem at all. It was her worry that gnawed at her so, and made the minutes drag on like hours. How could she not have seen the signs before? Abigail was always a weak frail girl, it was no wonder she rarely went out with everyone else. God knew how long her disease had raged, perhaps forever. But why did they choose just now, now as her life was slipping away from her and death stood a breath away, to tell Hailey of the illness? Perhaps if she knew she'd have spent more time with the girl, made sure that every moment they had together was precious and memorable. Now it was too late. All too late. Finally the coach pulled up next to Winfield Manor, the ---'s fabulous house. Impatiently, Hailey drummed her fingers on the mahogany door and awaited the driver's slow movement around the back of the carriage to let her. When finally the door swung open, she didn't bother to take his hand, or tip him accordingly. She just took off full speed down the cobblestone pathway towards the twin lanterns at the front door. 

            Before she even had time to pound on the double doors, they swung open, revealing a young maid with freckles on her face and fiery red hair pulled back in a tight bun.

"Ms. Matthews. The masters have been expecting you. Right this way please." The girl spoke, her accent thick with an Irish brogue. Hailey hardly felt the warmth of the house as she shrugged off her coat, gloves, and hat, and handed them to another attendant waiting patiently to take them from her. The maid walked briskly up the carpeted staircase and down several hallways before stopping in front of a door. A few other servants were standing outside as well, wringing their hands and talking in hushed murmurs. When they saw Hailey however, their conversation died, and they straightened their backs. 

"It's a time of worry for all of us," Hailey whispered quietly, "you need'nt rely on etiquette now." Who knew why she'd said that. They weren't her servants to order about anyway, but all of their dutifulness in the face the impending sadness was something she couldn't stand to watch. Not when a good cry was what the time called for.  The red-head rapped softly on the door and called through;

"It's Ms. Matthews ma'am. Come to see Abigail. Shall I let her in?" 

For a second, there was no reply; just the sound of awkward shuffling. Then the door swung open, revealing a teary-eyed Mrs. ----. She'd managed to force a smile on her face as she gestured Hailey into the room.

"I'm so glad you could make it my dear." She put her hand on the small of Hailey's back as she guided her across the huge room – even bigger than Hailey's bedroom – towards the enormous bed. "Abigail has spoke fondly of you. She wishes so dearly to talk with you a while."

Any words of reply dissolved instantly off of Hailey's tongue as she looked down on her friend. Abigail had always been pale and thin, looking as if the slightest cloud might blow her away. Now however, she was ghostly white, with nothing but skin stretched over her tiny bones. It was clear she hadn't been able to keep down much food. Against the deep purple of her bedspread, the emaciated girl with stringy brown hair and deathly pale skin looked like a ghost.  When she saw Hailey, her thin, blue-ish lips turned into a small smile and she struggled to sit up.

"Hello Abigail!" Hailey said with forced cheerfulness. If the doctors were right, and it was her friend's last night on Earth, then damned if she was going to make it full of sorrow. "I came as soon as I got your letter. You've got a charming little bedroom. Mine's not nearly as nice as yours." 

From across the wide bed, Mr. --- smiled gratefully at her. She could tell he too was on the verge of collapse, with huge bags under his wrinkled eyes. He looked so much older, both Abigail's parents did, then when she'd seen them last at a party. Hailey sat with a cheerful smile on the edge of the bed, scooting over to be close to her. 

"You know, I feel just like Mary Lennox in  TheSecretGarden." She continued babbling, more to keep herself from crying that anything else. "Do you remember that scene? When she sneaks off in the night and goes down to Collin's bed?"  Abigail nodded, and pushed herself up into a slouched sitting position. 

"That was a wonderful book," she spoke quietly, her voice soft and raspy. There was a distinctive happiness in her eyes now though, because Hailey was there. "I finished Lauren Royal's Rose two nights ago. Have you read it yet?" This sent Hailey on another wild speech about the romance of Kit and Rose, and little by little the tensions fell away from Abigail's shoulders. 

            The clock in the hall chimed the hour of 12. It was midnight. Hailey lay, stretched out beside Abigail, half wrapped in a cloak of drowsiness. Beside her Abigail giggled sleepily, and shifted. Her breathing was still wheezy, and her skin became paler and paler as the night progressed. Not a single beam of moonlight slipped in through the thrown back curtains, but the gentle whisper of wind whistled through the slits of the window and rain pattered softly on the roof. 

"I'm not afraid to die." She said suddenly with a sad smile on her face. Every muscle in Hailey's body tensed. She'd been deliberately avoiding the topic of death, and yet Abigail went and brought it up anyway. But when she saw the look of peace on her face, a pang of deep sorrow reached her. She was telling the truth. Unbidden, a tear slipped down Hailey's cheek and landed softly in the purple sheets beneath her. 

"I would be." She admitted. Abigail laughed, flinching only slightly at the pain that shot through her at that gesture. 

"Everyone is trying to sugar coat it for me," she continued, looking at her friend's saddened face. "But I know it's my time. I am going to miss you though. You've been my only friend." She said, still smiling. More tears welled up in Hailey's eyes at this, and she felt both incredibly touched and saddened. "You won't forget me will you?" 

With a loud sniffle and an almost laughed out sob, Hailey shook her head and hugged her friend fiercely. "Never," she whispered out. She felt as if her heart was cracking in two. Abigail held such innocence, such bravery…

Both girl's jumped as the windows flew open and clanged noisily against the walls. Wind and rain whipped inside, and some papers on the desk opposite the window fluttered about. Hailey laughed, and pushed herself off the bed.

"I'll take care of it." She whispered and quickly crossed the room. As the windows were shut and the little metal lock slid into place, there was a definite change in the atmosphere of the room. All at once she knew. Abigail was dead. A single sob ripped from her throat as she cautiously padded back over to the bed. Sure enough, the girl's eyes were closed and her chest no longer rose and fell. The still mist of death was over her, yet she looked peaceful. The little lines of worry and timidity no longer crinkled around her eyes, and a little smile remained on her lips. Hailey sat down on the bed once more, and took the cold, lifeless hand in her own.

 "Be at peace."  She whispered. Sadness cracked her heart in two. So young, so innocent, and Abigail was taken from the world. No better person deserved the happiness of life, and yet she was taken from the Earth by raging sickness. _She is without pain now._ Hailey reminded herself, even as the tears spilled down. Reaching out, she touched Abigail's cheek one final time before rising up and walking towards the hallway. It was time for her to return home.

~~~

(A/N = wow. I haven't updated in like forever. Sorry bout that. ::guilty grin:: But thanks to Scrib, my new partner and crime and fellow spinster, I got to update! (Thanks Scrib! You rock!) wee. Okay so um… I can't really think of what else to say. Cept I'm totally sorry I didn't update earlier. And, oh yeah, Abigail is dead. ::ducks out of the way of flying vegitables:: It had to be done. The ending of the story has taken a morbid turn, I blame the Irish rain. I thought up the ending while in Ireland. Now I really hope I don't lose any of you because of it! Gah! More as soon as my brain can pump it out. Tah!) 


	29. Path of the Rain

The funeral was small, quiet, and very befitting of Abigail. Despite the social prominence of her family, they made sure it was an affair for close friends and family only. Not more than 20 people came, most of them Hailey had seen only in passing. Flowers of white were placed on the small mahogany coffin, and Abigail's uncle Morris sang a tearful yet haunting song as it was lowered into the ground. Though her face was red with tears and there was a painful lump in the back of her throat showed now intention of leaving, Hailey was strangely at peace during the whole process. Abigail no longer suffered, and this put her mind at ease. Somewhere - hiding behind the shifting branches of the large oak tree, and dancing on the wind that swirled down from the storm-darkened sky – she could hear her friend's cheery, see her shy smile. Abigail was gone, but her gentle touch remained behind. The priest spoke the last few words in Latin, forming a cross in the air. Mrs. Connerson sobbed, and clutched to her husband's chest. Hailey couldn't even look at them, so instead she focused on the heaps of dirt that were being thrown onto the casket. Absently, she tugged at the folds of her black dress, playing with the trim on the end of one sleeve. In her distracted state, she didn't notice Mrs. Connerson come up until she touched her shoulder.

"Thank you for coming dear." She said, her voice thick with tears. "You meant so much to her." Words clearly weren't appropriate, so Hailey leaned forward and embraced the woman fiercely.

"I'm always here to talk if you feel the need ma'am." She whispered into her ear, then pulled away. People were already beginning to file away, back towards the black gate that surrounded the graveyard and to their normal lives. Though it wouldn't be normal for two of the people, it would never be normal again. Looking one last time at the deep red of the coffin, and the flowers that were scattered across it, Hailey also turned and started her slow walk back to the carriage where her mother waited. The wind toyed with the few curls that escaped from her hat, and the scent of rain was heavy in the air. She knew she probably should have wiped away the tears that still ran down her cheeks, but somehow she couldn't bring herself to. The strength it took had left her long ago. Hailey lifted her eyes to the fence, to look out at the world beyond, and froze.

There he stood.

On the other side of the black metal, with one hand gripping the bars, Spot watched her. His green eyes held none of the fury she'd seen a few weeks earlier, but there wasn't a trace of the laughing mockery that had become so ingrained in her brain. Just a melancholy seriousness and a certain degree of understanding – and it fit the situation perfectly. He stopped fidgeting when he saw her, and stood perfectly still. For a long, breathless moment they just stared at each other. Somewhere off in the distance thunder rumbled, warning of impending rain. An unspoken understanding passed between them then. They were matched, a death for a death, and in their time of mutual sorrow the need for anger and hatred slipped away. There was no smile or nod to indicate this new shift in pretenses, but both understood it as if it had been shouted from the treetops. Without even blinking an eye, Hailey broke eye contact, and plodded silently back to the carriage. Spot reached up, straightened his tattered cap, and strolled on down the street.

A morbid peace fell over the Matthews house after that. For the first time in a long time, Mr. and Mrs. Matthews were actually sympathetic and caring. Perhaps it was only because the pain of Abigail's death was still fresh in her heart, but Hailey found it comforting – even though it was clearly not to last. There was little mention of the wedding at dinner, and Mrs. Donavan actually berated Marcus for a rude innuendo he'd casually thrown out. It was no different than the thousands he'd made over the months, but now she was a woman in grieving, and wouldn't be trifled with disgusting remarks such as his. At least until her grieving period was over.

Rain pelted the kitchen window mercilessly. Hailey stared blankly out at the darker side of twilight, and traced a streaming droplet of rain as it made it's courageous journey down the windowpane with one gloved finger. Though it was by no means customary for the upper class to enter the kitchen, she knew it was the only place she would find respite from the growing crowd upstairs. There were 3 families in the parlor that night instead of their usual two or – heaven forbid – her family alone. Her parents had thought it prudent to invite over a certain Mr. and Mrs. Hattersfield, the first of whom worked with Mr. Matthews. And having just married their daughter within the past year, the topic had slipped back into discussion of the wedding. _Oh well,_ she sighed, _the good luck can't last forever I suppose._ At least she found a place to be alone. The staff that usually bustled about the place were themselves taking a break from the chaos, and were most likely sneaking a quick game of poker before her parents caught wind and screamed for them to get back to work. In the brief lull, she found her thoughts drifting back to an area she thought she'd forever barred from her mind.

Ever since their silent yet momentous moment across the gates of the graveyard, she found her mind wandering back to his face. No longer did the thought of him hold the breathless wonderment it had months before when she first met him. The innocent giddiness was gone, and yet the deeper core of her feelings still remained. Perhaps strengthened by all the emotional hardships she'd encountered in such a short time, they now held a new sense of maturity. It made her feel older, and gave her a new understanding of what exactly she was feeling.

"Did I give you permission to be down here?" Marcus's voice broke through her peace like jagged glass. Her head snapped around, startled, as she was so unceremoniously dragged from her thoughts. At first she thought he was mocking her parents, and began to form a weak smile, but it dropped from her lips as she saw the expression in his eyes – he was serious.

"I don't need to ask your permission for anything Marcus." She told him formally, her chin rising a few more centimeters. The air around her seemed considerably colder than it had a moment ago. Perhaps the window blew open? He took a few steps towards her from his position in the small doorframe. A glint of anger flickered across his face.

"You are going to be my wife." He ground out. "And as such, I expect complete obedience." She took in his condescending speech with surprise and offense. What was even worse, he was right. In a short time, he would be able to order her about and she couldn't do a single thing to stop him. But for now, she would enjoy every bit of freedom she had.

"Then thank the Heavens I'm not your wife yet." She spoke with just as much determination as him as she rose from her seat. Fury swept hard and fast across his skinny little face, and he quickly closed the remaining feet between them. Pain shot up her arm as he seized her wrist and clamped down hard, his nails digging trenches in her flesh.

"How dare you speak to me that way?" He hissed out. Droplets of spittle landed on her face, and she flinched despite her attempt to remain completely neutral. Hailey tried desperately to wrench free her wrist, but to no avail. Marcus's grip remained strong as steel.

"Let go of me." she demanded with a waver in her voice. Malice gleamed bright in his eyes as he laughed.

"Wishing your pathetic street rat was here? You dirty whore?" It was as if he were possessed. There was anger and snobbery in him every day, but this transcended all of that. This was almost demon. With a strength she didn't even know he had, he yanked hard on her and threw her across the small space of the kitchen to where the cupboards were. One single shriek tore from her throat as she hit the edge of the wooden countertop with violent force. Instinct began to kick in and she was instantly prepared to run, but it was too late. He was on her in a flash. One hand covered her mouth to prevent any more screaming – which would ultimately attract attention. The other pinned the fabric of her dress to the counter. This was released the instant his body pressed tight against hers, fixing her in place so she couldn't move. Then his bony fingers began fumbling with the buttons on the front of her dress.

_Rape._ It rang clear as a bell through her conscience. He was going to rape her, right there in the kitchen, up against a counter. The more she tried to struggle however, the harder his hands mashed against her breasts and mouth. His hips ground impatiently against her; and as a moan erupted from his throat, he grabbed her bottom and pushed her even harder against him. Faster and faster he humped her motionless body, all the while he tore at her clothes to reveal the flawless skin beneath. Hailey managed to free one of her hands from where it was pinned behind her, and shoved with all her might just as Marcus ripped away the last of what remained of her bodice. He stumbled back a few steps, and fury wiped over the desire that had previously taken over his face.

"Filthy bitch!" he screamed angrily, and struck her hard across the face. Her vision swam for a moment, white speckles became the room around her, and she leaned against the counter for support. He took this moment of weakness to continue the pillage and plunder of her body. The thrusting of his hips and scraping of his hands became more and more painful as need took a hold of his sanity. Already, welts and bruises formed on her delicate skin. His exploring hands gave up the rough kneading of her breasts and dropped down lower to where her thighs met. Fingers probed relentlessly through the thick fabric of her skirts, and though under normal circumstances she would be swimming in pleasure, now she felt only great pain.

"Stop!" she managed to bite out before her mouth was covered once more. "You're hurting me!" But he took no note of this whatsoever. He just continued on his scraping and plunging, all the while his erection pumped against her thigh like an eager dog's. The pain became almost unbearable and she let out a ragged sob just as his hand covered her mouth again.

Suddenly the only thing on Hailey's mind was survival. Marcus could very well kill her if he didn't get himself under control. Blindly, she groped behind her on the counter for something to use against him. A spoon, a piece of wood, anything. Finally her fingers brushed something wooden, smooth, perfectly shaped. _Oh God,_ she breathed silently as she realized what it was. The hilt of a knife. Too much pain, too much pain to care. Her fingers closed around the knife's hilt and she drew it across the counter with a deafening sliding noise that only she could hear. Any chance at sanity or morals left with the hand that now snaked up her bare skin towards her exposed vagina. _Stop the pain._ It was the only thing she could grasp. So she did.

The blade of the knife slid in so smoothly, she hardly even heard it squish. Marcus froze, his entire body ceased to move as a few final choking noises strangled from his throat. Then all at once he sank away from her and landed with a thump on the floor. Blood pooled out from beneath him and a few final spasms racked his body. She couldn't even find the voice to scream.

Marcus Donavan was dead.

And she'd killed him.

(A/N – god, its been forever since I've updated. Like 4 or 5 months right?? I'm horrible! I know! I'm so sorry! This is probably the second to the last post. I changed the ending from what normally was going to be depressing to what is now bittersweet. I figure you all deserve it, after all the death that's happening.

WE HAVE VENGANCE ON MARCUS!! BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Eat that scumbag!! I never liked him anyway….)

(p.s. I realized I never gave Abigail a last name. Hence the lines in the last post. So her new last name is Connerson. So Mrs. Connerson? Yeah, that's Abigail's parents. Whoops. I'm a horrible writer. Sorry.)


	30. Out of the Darkness

A/N - 6 years later, I am finally finishing this. Yes, I am a total shmuck for not updating sooner (say, several years sooner) but time has a slippery way of getting away from me. I forgot about this little guy until I came back to FF.N and realized _whoah! I never finished that story_. The girl I wrote it for has long since disappeared from my life, I haven't watched Newsies in probably 3 years. But this story deserves an ending. So here goes.

* * *

Rain seemed always her constant companion. It swept her quickly along Brookyn's dark, bustling streets. Overhangings and thick trees provided her little shelter against its onslaught, but she refused to stop moving. If she stopped, she knew, she would collapse.

She could feel anymore. Not a single inch of skin registered the cold of the wind or the bruises left behind from Marcus's attack. The crimson drip of blood - his blood- stained her hands, stubbornly refusing to wash away in the gushing rain. People gave her funny stares on the street, and why shouldn't they? A fancy lady, clothes torn up like a regular doxy, bruised and battered. But no one helped. In their eyes, she was just another nameless whore who's John had given her a rough time. None of it was uncommon, it was a part of street life. To them, Hailey wasn't worth the notice.

She didn't care, she saw only one thing. The docks.

Find them, her instincts told her. Get to Spot. He'll know what to do. He'll know. He always knows. So onwards she trudged, past the shop owners with their accusing stares, past the houses where mothers tucked their children into bed at night. For the briefest of moments, her heart ached for her parents. They were good people, despite their utter lack of knowledge of the evils of the world, and they didn't deserve the utter lack of notice she was leaving behind. But she couldn't go back to that house, where Marcus's body slowly rotted on the floor. In the morning, the cook would find him, sprawled out and bloody on the ground. There would be a scream to wake the neighbors, and faster than light the police would arrive. Accusations would fly, the slow seed of rumor would root among the general populace, but in the end, they would figure it out. She'd killed him.

No one would care that he'd tried to rape her, take her innocence away. No one could care that _she_ was the victim, because in the end, it was her hand that held the knife, that ripped a hole in his stomach with it. She felt no remorse. Marcus Donovan was a horrible pox on society, and she was glad he was gone. Even the blood on her hands didn't bother her anymore. Perhaps when the storm that raged within her cleared and a piece of rationality broke through, the weight of exactly what she had done would fix its grasp. For the moment, it didn't phase her a bit, and she was all the better for it. Now she needed to find Spot. Once again, he would be her refuge.

The soft, seductive sound of water lapping at the dock sang her a lullaby that almost had her in tears. Never before had she heard a noise more beautiful. Though the sound of human rustling was barely undetectable, she knew everyone was there - Spot's gang, hovering in the darkness. Each and every pair of eyes sliced through the night to spot the unlucky person who dared enter their territory.

"Spot?" her voice was hoarse from crying, thick from the screams she knew she couldn't release. "Spot? Are you here?"

Shadows shifted, a never ending dance of dark and tricks of light that did nothing to calm her nerves. What if he wasn't here? What if...

"Hailey." His tone was one of disbelief and happiness, but it lasted only until he got a clear look at her face. Red furrows ripped claw marks down her face from tears lost since lost to the rain. Bruises were already beginning to turn odd shades of purple and green - the final sadistic portrait of Marcus Donovan. What he saw most, though, was the despair in her eyes, the utter hopelessness that seemed to swell up into a void larger than eternity itself. "Hailey, what happened?"

"I killed him." she said, words slipping out in a stunned whisper. She stared through him for a long moment. What unspeakable horrors she was envisioning, he only could wonder, but when her eyes finally connected with his, her face collapsed into a mask of sorrow. "I killed him." The sobs, which had buried themselves away previously, now rushed forward, attacking her whole body with racking spasms. Hailey swayed forward, off balance, into his arms, and sunk down slowly towards the docks.

Spot had to admit he was shocked. When he'd seen her hunched form traverse the slippery docks, he formulated many reasons why she may be visiting him, but murder wasn't one of them. His fingers moved slowly through her wet hair as he whispered meaningless soothing tones into the rain-drenched darkness. Something - anything - to calm her down. Though she hadn't specifically named who, he had a pretty good idea of who the deceased was.

"It's gonna be all right," he whispered. "I'm gonna take care of ya. But ya gotta tell me what happened."

It was several minutes before Hailey calmed down enough to form a coherent sentence. He'd tried to move her to a drier location, but she was too weak to stand, and every time he attempted to pull away in order to help her up, she let out a shriek of panic - as if letting go of him would sever any connection she had left to life. Finally, the shaking in her body simmered down to a little trembling due to the cold, and her trembling lips found they could mold words.

"Marcus. He tried to rape me. I didn't... I don't know what happened. I had the knife, and then he was..." Absolute horror was etched into every curve of her face at the memory of the attack. Still so fresh in her mind, she relived it as if it were happening in the present. Spot crushed her tightly to his chest. He had his own demons to fight now, the ones that wanted very much to bring Marcus back from the dead in order to break his arms and legs and roll him defenseless into the sea for even _touching_ her in such a way. But he was already sleeping with the Devil. Marcus was no longer his responsibility.

"I can't go home." The horror turned to panic on her face, and she repeated the words over and over again in rapid succession. "I can't go home. They'll find me. I can't go home. I can't go home."

He leaned down and kissed her wet, trembling blue lips, taking her face in his warm hands.

"Yoah safe heah with me," he whispered fiercely. "I won't let dem hoit you. Yoah safe."

But still her tears continued, mingling with the wet rain, hot and cold, they both streamed. She slipped her arms around him and crushed her face against his warm neck, seeping up as much heat as she could. He kissed the top of her head, then slowly slid his other hand under her knees and lifted her into his arms. As he walked down the slick planks towards their hideout, he saw faces begin to peer from behind boxes and through knots in boards. They were all curious, all searching. His face remained a mask of determination as he nodded once. The makeshift door to the small shelter was moved aside, and he ducked inside. Back into the warmth and safety of home.

* * *

This definitely wasn't the ending I was planning a long time ago, but it certainly opens the door to a lot more happiness, which is sort of a good thing in my mind.  
So here's my question. (Assuming anyone actually reads this), should I leave the ending as is, or write a more upbeat epilogue? I am a big fan of the upbeat, but I know some people prefer the darker, so I'll leave it up to the audience.

Hope you enjoyed the (INCREDIBLY) late ending! Comments are always appreciated.


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